Something is Wrong, A Cabin Pressure Fic
by LoveAlltheSherlocks
Summary: Something is wrong with Martin.
1. The Captain's Nap

Something felt wrong.  
>I do not own Cabin Pressure or any of it's wonderful characters.<br>Please R+R! Thanks to the 221B Baker Tweetists for all their support and thought so far :D

* * *

><p>Martin had already been sitting in the "Captain's" chair when Douglas arrived, but that was not surprising at all. Martin was usually early, especially when they were actually flying somewhere and not just meeting clients or going over the ruddy flight logs. Still, the cockpit had a different…air around it this morning. Martin was hunched over the logbook in his lap, pen in hand. But he wasn't writing anything. Douglas remembered his tea, compliments of Arthur of course, in the kitchen area and grabbed it. Then Douglas noticed something else. Even Arthur wasn't preparing for the flight yet. He was nowhere to be seen, in fact. And Carolyn was usually telling them to pick up the pace and get the take-off checklist moving by now. What the hell was going on anyway?<p>

He headed back to the cockpit. He slid the door open and sat down in his first officer's chair, slightly flattened out by the constant pressure of people sitting in it. Taking one, then two sips of tea he wondered if he remembered everything for the trip. It was going to be a long one, 2 weeks in Marseille and then a short weekend trip to Chicago, followed by Malibu. This is what Douglas was looking forward to the most. Warm, sunny Malibu. No one had scheduled any trips with MJN after that for a whole month, so Douglas was sure that if Carolyn convinced everyone to find their own accommodations they could at least stay for a week before an unexpected booking came in. But by then Douglas will have gotten a slight tan but no burn, and everyone might be relaxed some. Even Martin. Speaking of Martin…

Douglas turned to his left. Martin was still hunched over and it took a moment for him to realize he was in a very unnatural position. He must have fallen asleep. He did that on the last flight, too. Actually, the number of times Martin had been falling asleep – or at least dozing- on accident before, during, or after a flight had been getting higher lately. Douglas could have sworn that Martin had been looking pretty exhausted in the past few months. And as a result he was always asking if anyone had Tylenol because he had a headache. And it wasn't just headaches either, Douglas realized. Martin's back, his legs, his neck…sometimes Martin just mumbled something about his bones hurting and he just wanted to get home and sleep.

Douglas tapped Martin on the shoulder a few times. "Sir, I do believe in order for us to fly a plane our supreme commander must be awake."

Martin didn't rouse. Douglas turned his chair slightly and kicked the bottom of Martin's with just enough force to make it jump a little.

Nothing. Martin's head just lolled to the side away from Douglas and his hand rolled off of his notebook. The pen falling to the floor seemed to make a much louder noise than usually noticed.

Douglas got up from his chair and knelt in front of Martin's. A bit of a tight squeeze between the chair and the control board but that didn't matter. Douglas heard Arthur's cheery voice faintly outside, and then Carolyn's sharp one after. Douglas hit Martin's leg, then his other one, even shook the chair-anything would have worked to get Martin up. But maybe he wasn't sleeping. Maybe he was-

Martin sucked in a short breath and opened his eyes wide. He looked around for a moment and then noticed Douglas. "What…" his voice was quiet, unstable.

"Were you sleeping?" Douglas asked, also quietly. The remaining MJN employees would be on the plane soon. Martin didn't respond, he just kept looking around and holding his fingers to his head for a moment. Another headache, maybe. He cleared his through and sat up straight. Douglas stood as well. "No, I…erm…yes. Must've dozed I guess. Sorry."

"I am so happy that you could take a nap, _Captain, _but unfortunately are take-off checklist isn't complete and Carolyn and Arthur are almost here." He kept looking at Martin's face. His eyes had dark circles around them, more noticeable now. His eyes were slightly bloodshot, too. "Maybe you'd like to tell Carolyn we should cancel our trip, and then you can sleep all you want?"

Douglas wasn't speaking with an attitude, but of course Martin took his statement as an insult and stood up quickly. "No! I have been waiting to go to Malibu for-"and then he fell back into the chair, eyes fluttering, hands holding his head. Douglas grabbed his shoulders to keep him steady. Martin looked up. "Look, Douglas, as much as I know you'd grab any opportunity to switch places with me and pilot this flight, I will not allow it. I have a headache is all. I haven't had my tea yet." He brushed Douglas' hands away and stood up (slowly this time.) He walked past Douglas, pushing him out of the way slightly and into the cabin.

Douglas sat down in his chair. "Well then," he muttered to himself as he took another sip of his own tea. It was almost cool now. He drank it all in 3 gulps and waited for Martin's return. Surely the take-off checklist would be done within five minutes. Too short to get up and do something, too long to just sit. So he sat and he waited.

He couldn't stop thinking about the way Martin looked-his eyes, his face-dark and sunken skin. He was too tired, that was for sure. Probably from his other job. It's tough work, being a man with a van. Moving things and fixing lights, all hours of the day. But Douglas couldn't shake the thought of Martin falling backwards into the chair. He hadn't been spinning around which would be a perfect explanation for the inner-ear balance problem. But if you were exhausted enough, you could get dizzy too. That was it then. He was just simply…tired.

But the bad feeling didn't go away. Not even when Martin came back with in his normal mood, eager to fly following all rules and regulations of being a proper pilot. "Alright then! Take-off checklist complete, Douglas. Carolyn and Arthur are settling in now. Then we are off on our flight. How long…" he searched through his notebook-

"Eight or Nine hours, I'd say." Douglas interrupted. "Depending on whenever we bloody leave."

"Eight or nine…what?" Martin looked at his book for a second time, not understanding what Douglas said. "To get to France? Surely, Douglas, it doesn't- Don't joke with me, I am not in the mood."

"Dear Sir, if I was joking there would be a long list of perfectly adequate insults and witty comments to throw at you much better than this one. It is not a joke. It will take us at least 8 hour to get to the states. Why on Earth did you say France?"

Martin squinted his eyes together and studied Douglas' face. He really was serious…the states? Then he remembered. Marseilles. Illinois. Most definitely not France. He had made a mistake. He never made silly ones like that but today he did. How stupid was he? What kind of a pilot-

Douglas noticed the realization in Martin's eyes and laughed at him. "Come on now, Martin. France? We have been talking about this trip for a month. I told you to pack warm clothes; it gets very cold in the Midwest states. I do hope you brought a coat with you." He leaned back into the chair and had a quick laugh again "Ha! France."

Martin had had enough. He slammed the notebook down on the little counter beside him, startling Douglas. Martin stood up. "Shut up, Douglas! I said I wasn't in the mood and I'm not. I could really go without your jokes for one damned flight."

"Martin, I wasn't-" Douglas sat up and looked at Martin's face. But Martin stopped him again. "No! You were too, you were. I know it. Like always Douglas. First Officer comedian 24/7, never serious, always good for a laugh. Well I'm done. I won't have it." He stormed out of the room, tossing his captain's hat on the chair before he left.

Douglas knew what happens next. Carolyn would storm in, demanding to know what happened, Douglas would explain but wouldn't be believed, etc, etc. they just go already?

A few moments passed. Douglas thought about why Martin would slip out like that, suddenly with no warning. He never did that. You always had a buildup of anger with Martin, and you always knew when to back off and get a little bit of wiggle room before Martin blew his gasket. He never just exploded like that, even at Douglas. And it was not like Douglas actually used bad jokes on him. Just a comment or two.

Arthur popped his head in the doorway. "Morning, Douglas!"

"Cheery as ever, Arthur."

"Well, no sense not being cheery on a day like this! What's up with Skip? His face was awful red…"

"Nothing, Arthur, just get some more tea or coffee on and get your mother."

"Alright! Mum!"

Carolyn pops in next. "I do not even want to know, Douglas. Sort it out yourself, it looks like you caused it anyway." Douglas stops her. "Wait." She shuts the door. "What's wrong with him?"

Carolyn looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"Have you not been paying attention? He's tired, he's moody, he's always in pain…I could swear he passed out in this chair just 20 minutes ago. And not he's flipping out on me for no good reason."

"I hardly believe that one, Douglas, but I agree he's been a bit odd lately. We did fly a great deal in the summer, maybe it was a bit much for him and that other job he's got. No matter then, we've got a nice relaxing time in Malibu ahead of us. He can relax and he'll be in tip-top shape for the Burling trip."

"Carolyn, I-"

"I won't hear any more, Douglas. Our client is here and we really must be going soon. Get Martin out of whatever funk he's in so he can fly us to the States." She walks out, leaving Douglas with his mouth hanging open.

*knock knock knock* Douglas raps on the door or the toilet, sure that Martin is in there.

"Just go get the plane started, Douglas; I'll be out in a minute." His voice is quiet and shaky, but he seems in a decent mood. Douglas puts everything in order, makes the announcement to the passenger, and wait for Martin, who comes into the cockpit after a moment. He looks like he's about to fall over and he may or may not have been crying a bit.

He sits down in silence and begins the take-off process. Douglas says nothing but keeps looking out of the corner of his eyes at Martin's face. It's determined but his eyes aren't focusing as well. Not as if he'd crash a plane or anything, but definitely not in tip-top shape.

Finally the plane is in autopilot and Martin and Douglas have both relaxed in their chairs. Silence has filled the room completely but just as Douglas opens his mouth Martin starts talking.

"I'm sorry, Douglas."

Douglas looks at him in surprise. "Oh?"

"I know you weren't being particularly rude to me. It was my mistake; I don't know why…anyway, I apologize. I don't know why I yelled like that. I'm not usually like that, you know…and I thought it was France, but it wasn't, and maybe I should have checked and your sarcasm out me off and I still haven't had my tea and-"

"Shut up, Martin. I don't care. You're just tired." He hands him his notebook which slid on the floor during take-off.

"Am not." Martin grabs the book and tucks it into the drawer.

"Alright then. Whatever you say…_Sir._"

Martin smiles and leans his head all the way back. Within minutes, he's snoring slightly and his hand is twitching. Douglas goes to wake him, but then he realized that 20 minutes with only one pilot isn't ALL that big of a deal on an 8-hour flight. So he watches the sky and listens to Martins rhythmic snoring and the echo of Arthur's cheerfulness at their guest.

He still couldn't shake that bad feeling, though. Something felt wrong.


	2. Good Weather, Bad feeling

_I just need more sleep, he told himself._

* * *

><p>Martin felt oddly relaxed when he woke up. He kept his eyes closed for a moment, and then realized he wasn't lying down in a bed. He was sitting. His eyes opened slowly, and after seeing the clouds being parted by the plane he was in, he sat up immediately. Which made his back hurt. Did Douglas notice he had fallen asleep? He glanced out of the corner or his eyes to see that Douglas was looking down at his logbook. Martin shifted himself slowly to a natural position and looked at his watch. 4 more hours to go. Wait.<p>

He'd been asleep for almost 5 hours.

He wasn't even tired this morning. Not as much as he was yesterday, anyway. And his headache was lesser than yesterday too. But just as he thought of that, he felt the nagging pain again. The one right in the middle of his forehead and the middle of the back of his head and…well, everywhere. He searched in his pocket for some Tylenol, Advil…anything that would get rid of the pain for the rest of the flight.

Douglas didn't look up from his book but said, "Carolyn's got a bottle somewhere. Arthur might know."

Martin stopped and looked at him for a moment. No sarcastic comments about sleeping…yet.

As if right on cue, Douglas looked up from the book and met eyes with Martin. "Of course, you could go see about it rather than sitting there. As much as I love flying myself, Carolyn would have a fit if she knew you were…_resting_ all this time."

Ah, there it was. Martin said nothing. He took off his seat belt and murmured something even he couldn't really understand, and slid out into the hallway.

Arthur was standing in the hall on the other end, just before the door to the passenger cabin. "Skip!" He exclaimed. "How are you?"

"Just fine, Arthur, where is Carolyn?" Martin held the back of his neck in one hand and took a breath.

"Uhh…well, dunno. Probably serving the food? She wouldn't let me touch it after last time…your face's gone all funny, Skip! What's wrong?"

"Nothing, what do you mean my face?" Martin scrunched his eyebrows. If anything felt funny, it was his head, and definitely not his face.

"Well, it's just…your eyes look sorta glassy. And your eyelid's twitching a lot." Arthur reached his finger up to Martin's eye. Martin slapped it away.

"Stop that! Really, Arthur, I need Carolyn. Tell her I need some Tylenol." He pinched the bridge of his nose.

Arthur immediately sprang back to life. "OH! Mum said you might need it so she gave me a bottle to hold for you." He grinned very proudly.

"Alright, then, hand it over." Arthur did. Martin unscrewed the bottle and poured out 6 pills into his hand. He gave the bottle back. Arthur look confused.

"Err, Skip…I don't think you're supposed to take that many. It says 4 on the label…" He looks at the bottle to point out where exactly it says that.

"Never mind, Arthur, Just please go get me some water or something. And tea in a bit." He turns away and heads to the cockpit door.

"Sure, Skip!"

Douglas now had his logbook closed in his lap. He looked up at Martin. "Find some?"

"Arthur had it. He's bringing tea." Martin sat down, pills in his hand. It felt warm where they were…like M&Ms condensating but not melting yet. "How long?"

Doulas looked at his watch. "Four hours, I'd say. Good weather." Just then Arthur walks in, trying to balance 2 cups of tea and a water bottle in his hands.

"Tea and Water! Here you go." He lets Douglas take one of the cups and Martin take the other, and then hands him the bottle of water. Martin twists to hear the crack of the lid opening "Thank you, Arthur."

"No problem, Skip! Hey, can I-"

"No." It was both Douglas and Martin speaking. Letting Arthur be in the cockpit for more than five minutes was definitely a bad idea.

"Oh, alright then. See you later!"

Douglas chuckled to himself. "I say, that boy needs something to do on these long flights. Carolyn ought to buy him a Mad Libs-Uhh, Martin…" He notices Martin tossing a small pile of the white pills in his mouth and taking a swig of water after. "I'm sure that was more than enough."

Martin take another sip of the water and twists the cap on before tossing it in the glove box on his left. "Oh, Douglas, please."

Douglas takes a sip of his tea. "I'm serious, Martin, overdosing on those is not pleasant."

"Douglas, it's just Tylenol. No harm done." He takes a sip of his tea too.

"Seriously, Martin. They don't kill you but nasty hallucinations are sure to ensue. Believe me."

Martin huffed."Oh, I'm sure you know that because you've been there?"

"Of course I have."

"Right." Martin sipped his tea, set it on the counter next to him. He closed his eyes and put his head back for a minute. He thought about Marseille, Illinois. Probably a lot of farms there, right? Animals? Chicago would probably be more fun. His stomach made a noise. A small one, but it alerted him to sit up very quickly. He heard it again.

Douglas looked at him. "What?"

Martin didn't respond. He didn't even move, not an inch. He closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. What was it? He heard it again. But the noise wasn't really a noise, per se, but a feeling. He felt it.

All of a sudden, he felt sick. Let it pass, he thought, you've only had some tea. And that was exactly it, he'd only had tea. What about yesterday? He tried to remember back to the night before, him coming home, toeing off his shoes. All he wanted was sleep. He never ate. What about…no, he didn't eat in the afternoon either. He had buttered toast in the morning, but that was early. He thought of the butter on the toast, he spilled some on his uniform pants and was irritated because he was already late.

Then, it came. It was a wave of the feeling; it took his whole body hostage. He jumped up, spilling the tea on the counter and knocking his own log book down into the liquid. Douglas also jumped up. "What? Martin-"

Martin pushed past him and through the door. Into the loo. He shut the door behind him. Before he could kneel on the ground or even lean over, his entire body involuntarily lurched itself over at the waist and he dry heaved. Nothing happened. His body did it again, throwing Martin over the toilet. Nothing. Again and again, the dry heaves came. And finally, whatever it was forced itself out.

It was just…bile. Bile and Tylenol. The pills hadn't even dissolved much yet. Martin's body stopped and all he could do was look. It was revolting. It didn't even look…normal, as normal as bile looked. He thought for a second that blood must have made its way in somehow, for the pinkish hue. He couldn't think anymore. His head tilted, feeling heavy. He shut the toilet lid down and sat on it, reaching behind to flush. He leaned over so his head touched the counter.

He should have eaten. He was so stupid; of course he'd get sick. But last night he just wanted to sleep, he wasn't even hungry. And this morning, well, he wasn't thinking. He had to iron his uniform, and the warm water of the shower felt unusually good this morning. Martin sighed and closed his eyes.

*knock knock knock* "Martin." It was Carolyn. Martin glanced over at the door; there were 2 sets of shadowed feet under the edge. Douglas, too.

"I'll be out in a minute, Carolyn." The shadowed feet waited a moment, then headed right, to the cockpit.

Martin stood up slowly. His head felt heavy but not too badly. He washed his hands and splashed some water to his face. It felt refreshing. He was much too warm now. He might have a fever. Standing up straight, he looked into the mirror.

He took a sharp breath. The face in the mirror wasn't him, it couldn't be. His eyes looked red and the eye sockets seemed deeper than before. His cheeks were sunken too, in a way. His face…his whole face looked tired. Like he felt. Exhausted.

Martin splashed himself with water again. I just need more sleep, he told himself. It's been a long summer and Carolyn has booked one too many flights. Not that he could complain, of course. Carolyn needed debts to be paid and Martin's salary was not one of them. And Douglas would just say he was a baby, work through it, blah blah blah.

Just four more hours, he though. Three and a half, really. Then he could sleep again. That's all he wanted to do, was sleep. All the time.


	3. Yellow Plane

Carolyn didn't even let Martin sit down before pestering him. "Martin, pleeeease tell us what on Earth is going on."

Martin sat in the chair and shook his head. "Nothing, Carolyn, it's probably just the flu." He remembered his tea, the tea he spilled. But nothing was under the chair. They had already cleaned it up.

"Oh, well I'm glad there's only a few hours left then. The last thing I need is to be stuck with a germfest like you in this small plane." She started to walk out the cockpit, ignoring Douglas' stare. Martin shook his head after realizing what she said "Caro-"

"Oh hush, boy, and fly the plane. Then you can rest and I'll give you a whole bottle of Tylenol."

Martin couldn't argue to that. Tylenol wasn't expensive but it was to him. He flipped a few buttons and looked at his watch.

Douglas took a deep breath. "Well I'd love to stay and chat, but I need a refresher." He stood up and walked through the door. Martin ignored him.

Douglas went to the kitchen to find Carolyn. She was pouring some water into a cup for tea. "Carolyn…" He said slowly. "I May be wrong, but I think that is not what we said we would do." He had his finger pointed up, shaking it like a professor would.

"Well what did you expect me to say? You think I'm not worried as well? It probably is just the flu. I told you that."

Douglas snapped his head to face her. "You most certainly did not."

"Well I said basically the same thing. He needs sleep. It was a long summer. Florida will be good to him, and maybe he can cover that pale skin with a decent tan." She dunked her teabag a few more times before using the spoon to get every last ounce of tea into the water. "Here," She handed Douglas the cup. Make sure he drinks this, all of it, and-"she grabbed a few biscuits and tossed them into Douglas' other hand, "make sure he eats too." Starving certainly won't solve his problems, and will only make mine worse. I need a plane and crew to run MJN Air, and you ought to know that crashing will surely make that impossible."

Arthur popped right into the conversation (gracefully, as usually) ""Ello, Douglas! Need any help?"

"I'm sure I can manage Arthur, just open the door if you will." Arthur helped him into the cockpit. And of course, tried to stay. "Please, just for a bit? We can play yellow car! Or charades!"

Douglas didn't even skip a beat. "As tempting as it is to play yellow car in the air, Arthur-"but Martin interrupted him.

"Fine, Arthur, you can stay. For five minutes. Then you have to go." He took a small bit of the biscuit he was holding. Then another. But on the third nibble (albeit a small one) he started to choke on it for just a split second. He coughed for a minute, crumbling the biscuit a little and finally giving up on eating it for a while. He wasn't hungry anyway.

Arthur, sitting on the floor in front of the door, looked concerned. "Skip, you have to eat that or Mum will be mad."

Martin looked at him. "You all are ridiculous. I'm not hungry. I'm likely to just get sick again anyway." He took a drink of the tea.

Douglas cleared his throat. "Arthur, time's up! Get out."

"Aww, come on, Doug-"

"Out, Arthur." See you after the landing." Douglas looks over at Martin. He is staring out of the window in front of him, eyes blank. His breaths are short and quick, judging by the movement of his chest. Douglas isn't sure what to say.

"Martin-"And then Martin jumps in his chair and looks back at him. His eyes wide, he just stares. "What?"

Douglas squints for a second. "What? I didn't even yell at you."

Martin blinks a few times and settles back into the chair, looking out at the clouds again. After a moment, he says quietly,"My ears hurt."

Douglas nods to himself. "Infection, maybe."

"Mmm." Martin doesn't look away from the sky. He tightens his teeth on a fingernail.

"A doctor might be in order, Martin." Douglas looks down at the knee of his uniform pants. They're a bit worn.

"Silly. Just a flu." Martin still doesn't look away. Douglas turns to him. "Chicago," he says.

Martin huffs. "Fitton. American doctors, huh!"

"Fine, Florida."

"No."

"Martin-"

"NO!" Martin hits his hand on the arm of the chair. Then he grabs in and winces in pain. Rubbing it with his other hand, he continues, "Just shut up."

"Fine." Douglas looks back at his own side of the window.

The line that usually divides them, separates them, was faded. But now it felt stronger. Martin flipped 2 switches and a button, Douglas turned his light on.

Silence again. Until Martin started coughing.


	4. Shower Before Swimming

"I do believe Florida will be my favorite place travelled so far." Douglas tossed his carry-on bag onto the bed. Martin did the same and opened the curtains to view the pool.

"It is very nice." He replied quietly. He looked at the blue water of the pool. "I'm surprised she let us stay here."

"Carolyn knows how to vacation as well as anyone. She's probably saved up for it, and anyhow we are paying for our own rooms." Douglas started to take a few items out of the bag and set it on his nightstand- his phone, charger, and some vitamins.

Martin squinted for a second and whipped around."What?"

"Oh, come on, Martin, you didn't really think she's pay for our room, did you? Not at a nice hotel such as this one. I told her if I paid for our room, she would have to pay for hers and Arthur's. Luckily she agreed, and here we are."

Martin looked down at his side of the bed and sat on the edge. He cleared his throat. "Well, uh…thank you. I didn't know, or I would have-"

"What, stayed elsewhere? Nonsense. I'm still only paying for one room, and unfortunately we have shared a bed before. Now we are in luxury for the time being. Don't over think it." Douglas headed toward the bathroom. "Now. I think a swim in the pool is in order. Why don't you knock next door and tell them to meet us out by the pool in 15 minutes. I always shower before swimming."

Martin didn't respond, but got up from the bed and went to the door. Next thing he knew, he landed face-first on the floor in the small hall to the hotel room door.

Douglas heard the thud and opened the door to see Martin on the floor. He was slowly moving to get up, rubbing his eye with his right hand. Douglas grabbed his arm and helped him up, only to get a small slap on his own arm. "I just tripped, Douglas. Really" He brushed off the arms of his uniform jacket, then took it off and hung it up in the closet.

Douglas didn't say anything. Martin headed to the door and grabbed his keycard. "Fifteen minutes?"

"Yes." But he heard the door slam before he finished the word.

"Skip! You're right next door, that's brilliant!" Arthur was holding one of the hotel robed in his hand.

Martin loosened his tie a bit. "Yes, it is, Arthur. What's Carolyn doing?"

"What do you want, Martin?" Carolyn yelled from the bathroom.

Arthur whispered, "She's taking a shower before she goes into the pool, she says. But that doesn't make any sense, does it, Skip? She's getting into the water anyway!"

Martin chuckled. He took showers before he entered the pool too, just because he liked to wash everything away before he stepped into cool water. It seemed silly though, now. He decided he'd take a risk today. After all, it is a vacation. The pool can wash it all away. Whatever "it" is.

"Douglas wants to swim too." He said to Arthur. Arthur grinned even more, if that was possible.

"Brilliant! I'll tell Mum. Are you swimming too, Skip?"

"Yes, Arthur. We'll be ready in fifteen minutes. Whoever gets there first can pick which chairs to hold.

Arthur nearly squealed. "Brilliant!"

Martin's keycard took 3 times to work, just his luck. He hoped it worked fine the rest of the stay. He always seemed to have bad keycards, valet cards, or anything else you basically need.

Douglas was still in the shower. Martin walked to the bed and pulled his suitcase on it. He fingered through the perfectly folded and organized piled of clothes. His gold-trimmed navy blue swim trunks were at the bottom of the pile in the bottom right corner. He smiled when he pulled them out, admiring the colors. He remembered how excited he was when he saw them at the thrift shop; they fit perfectly and were almost free. He did quite a bit of washing to feel happy about its condition, but he didn't care. They looked perfect.

He went to the top left corner of the suitcase's piles and pulled out a white t-shirt. Just then, Douglas steps out of the bathroom, rubbing a towel on his head. His swim trunks are blue, too, with orange Hawaiian-style flowers on them. His blue t-shirt was wrinkled and he had a bit of sunscreen on his nose.

"Arthur says they were swimming anyway." Martin picked his clothes up and slipped his shoes off. He set them neatly together, at the foot of the bed. "I'm going to change and I'll be right out."

"I'm going to beat Arthur to some good chairs. I won't have any teenagers bothering my relaxation time again. Will you bring your keycard?"

"Sure," Martin speaks through the bathroom door.

Martin arrived at the chairs so obviously marked with Arthur's Rubber Duck decorated towel. He sat down in the only empty one, between Douglas and Arthur's. Carolyn sat on the other side of Arthur's chair.

"Really, Martin? The aviators?" Douglas raised his eyebrows at him.

Martin glared at him, not that Douglas could see through the shades anyway. "I happen to like them, Douglas." He adjusted said glasses onto his nose and set his towel at his feet. "Plus, the sun hurts my eyes today."

Douglas returned to his book.

Just then, Arthur splashed out from under the water. "Skip!" He bubbled, rubbing his eyes. "Come on, the water's brilliant!"

"Just a second, Arthur." Martin got up and sat on the edge of the pool, dipping his feet in the water, toe by toe. It was cold but somehow…well, brilliant. Like Arthur said.

He let his feet drop in up to his knees and slowly moved them under the water in synchronized circles. The water felt cleansing. He forgot everything in just a moment, just a second.

Arthur splashed him. The droplets of water hitting his shirt and face took him out of his trance. "Come on, Skip! Please?"

"Oh, alright!" He smiled and got up. He didn't want to jump in right away, it was way too cold. But before he got to the stairs descending into the pool, he suddenly felt like jumping.

He'd regret it for sure. But he didn't care. The water looked so…inviting. Just to take it in, all at once, would be glorious. He'd never do it again, of course. But it felt right. He looked around. Not too many people. Only a few groups. all conformed to their corners of the pool. Splashing wouldn't be too big of an upset.

So he walked back to where he was before. Arthur looked confused for a minute but must have realized, but before he could get too excited, Martin jumped.

He entered a different world. It was slow moving, and…sloshy. His ears popped and his eyes stung but Martin didn't care. He blinked and looked around him. He saw Arthur's legs (bright red trunks) and other people's too. He just stayed for a minute. It felt quiet. Just enough quiet, but there was noise too. It was perfect. A perfect feeling for Martin.


	5. The Elevator Could Be Fun

Martin's hands flew to his ears (well, as fast as they could move underwater) and he pressed on them. He let himself float to the surface and went to the edge of the pool near their chairs. He hit his ears, he stuck his fingers inside them but he still had the feeling water had gotten in them. His brain felt sloshly. Full.

"Skip, are you alright?" Arthur asked, making Carolyn's head snap in their direction. Douglas moved his eyes up from his book. "Martin, if it's your inner ear-"

"Oh,,shut up Douglas," Martin snapped, still playing with his ears. "Just some water in them." And finally, the feeling went away. "See?" He said, gesturing. "Just fine."

He swam more, too. He swam the longest he had in a very long time, underwater, having splash contests with Arthur, and jumping into the deep end (but swimming away fast, because he never like not being able to touch the bottom of the pool with his toes). The sun started to set and Martin needed to use the bathroom. He walked the whole way back to his room for some reason. And when he was done he decided that he wanted a drink. Martin wasn't very big on drinking; especially hard drinking, but he wanted something different than the regular club soda from a fountain. So he got dressed- yes, In his uniform, and left, being sure to leave the extra keycard at the desk for Douglas. Not that he would need it; Martin only wanted one drink.

He walked up to the biggest empty space of the bar's counter. The bar was crowded but not too busy. A bartender looked up at him.  
>"Amaretto Sour," Martin said. It took only 1 minute to get the drink but for Martin that time stretched. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted it. When the bartender set it in front of him he drank nearly 13 of it in one swig. It felt sour and sweet…it burned down his throat but in the best possible way. It felt good. Two more swigs and he needed another glass. He nodded at the bartender. Next glass, it only took two drinks. Then the 3rd glass took one. One giant swig of lovely alcohol. His headache seemed to vanish.  
>"You should probably slow down," a voice said next to him.<p>

She was a brunette, almost as tall as Martin, with lovely legs, and eyes the color of the ocean (well, the sky would be more appropriate in Martin's case). She smiled at Martin and he nearly spit out his drink.

"Oh, um, h-h-hello." He looked at her eyes. She smiled even wider.

"I'm Anita." Her accent and skin tone said south of the border. She has gleaming white teeth. Martin couldn't help but grin and he felt silly so he cleared his throat. "I'm Martin." He said.

She laughed. "Martin, why the uniform?" She playfully dragged a finger along his epilates of one sleeve, making Martin shiver. "What do you do, Marrrrtin?" Her accent rolled the R's, making Martin feel suddenly warm.

"I, uh, well…I'm a C-Captain." He cleared his throat.

"A Captain?" She said.

"OH! A, uh, uh, I fly a plane. I am the captain of a plane." He straightened his shirt, which felt tighter than usual on his small, angular body.

"Ohhhhh," she said, grinning. Her finger never left his arm. He got goose bumps.

"Tell me, Captain Martin…" she said, stepping closer to him. "Do you have a room close by?"

Martin looked at her. She wanted to sleep with him? It was a small victory, and she would have slept with anyone, but he didn't care. He'd never done this, a one-night stand before, and it felt liberating to even be offered one. He wanted it so bad…He was on vacation, right? One fun night, then she leaves….but then he remembered Douglas.

"Well I do h-have a room…b-but someone is staying there as well, you see." He looked at her.

"Oh, that's alright, my room is on the 4th floor. The elevator could be fun, eh?" She loops a finger between his belt and pants.  
>The walk, arm in arm, drinking their newly ordered drinks. Martin sees Douglas, luckily, and tells him about the keycard at the desk. Douglas looked confused for a second and nodded. Martin continued to the elevator.<p>

The door s shut and she attacked him. He could barely breathe because of her kisses, she held on to him so tight, and he felt so good about it he took control. Pushed her against the wall and kissed her neck, let her untuck his shirt and work on his tie, his buttons, and they got to her room door and she pulled him into the hall, into the bed, he unzipped her dress with more force than he planned on, and when he apologized for it and more little things she just laughed and too more clothes off.

I was true glory. It was fast and slow, it was hot and cool it was fun and serious all at the same time. Martin did what he wanted, she let him, and she did things to him that he will never forget. And never remember. After wards she layed next to him, arm draping over his bare chest. He felt so…relaxed. He fell asleep quickly.

"Rise and Shine, _Captain_." Douglas said, opening the thick curtains to let the bright sun hit Martin's face. "Long night?"

Martin blinked. His room? But he didn't remember leaving Anita. He rubbed his eyes. His headache was back. All over, this time.

Douglas sat down in one of the chairs. "Martin," he said "Do you remember last night?"

Martin sat up. He was in his white shirt and swim trunks…

"What do you mean? Yes, of course."

"Martin, so you remember where I found you?" Douglas looked in his eyes.

"Where you found…"

"By the pool, Martin. You were laying, eyes open, mumbling, on the edge of the pool. Do you know why?"

Martin didn't understand. He and Anita left? But why the pool?

"I was a little confused when you were at the bar mumbling, but admitted to myself that you mumble a lot when you're thinking so that must have been it. But when you came up to me, you were talking and laughing as if there was someone with you. Why, Martin? I know you were a little tipsy…I thought you were going to our room to sleep it off."

So there was no Anita? No one-night stand? No…no sex?

He didn't understand. He shifted his feet and turned over on the bed. He felt funny. Did he dream the whole thing? No, he never remembered his dreams. So…

No, it couldn't be.

No. It couldn't-

All of a sudden, Douglas was in view, blocking the sun. Now Martin was cold. But Douglas' hand touched his forehead for a moment, and before Martin could protest, Douglas said "Martin!"

Martin looked up at him, feeling dizzy and lightheaded. He sat up. "What?" he mumbled.

Douglas only murmured something before leaving the room. He forgot his key card.

Martin slowly got up and went to get it.

He picked it up.

But his head, oh his head…He felt so light and heavy at the same time, hot and cold, near and far from the door.

He saw white, and the purple,

and then Black.

He collapsed.


	6. What You've Always Wanted

First, it was Douglas, standing at the door. No key card, damn, so he knocks. Nothing. Knocks. Nothing.

He stands there thinking for a moment about how Martin should really-

Wait.

Douglas then pounds on the door with his fist, yelling Martin's name out.

"Very funny, Martin, we all know you're funny, now let's go."

But when there was no response Douglas ran to the front desk.

The receptionist said someone would meet them there in just a moment, and Douglas runs to the rooms, yelling for Carolyn.

Then everyone is at the door, the key card holder opens it and Douglas pushed past him to get inside-

He sees Martin on the floor, face down, and drops beside him. Carolyn takes her phone out, dialing 911; Arthur comes from behind her and looks in, fidgeting with his fingers. Douglas turns Martin around and feels for a pulse, its light but there, and he tries to wake Martin to no avail…

EMTs come in and do the usual, saying things no one else can really make out, and Douglas is told to step aside, He goes over to Carolyn, who has Arthur's hand, and says he will ride with Martin to the hospital. Carolyn only nods. Arthur is frozen.

A stretcher is rolled into the room and Martin is moved to it, air mask and all. The sight makes Douglas shiver. He followed the stretcher to the vehicle and climbed inside once Martin was loaded.

***

"What do you mean, you can't tell us anything?" Carolyn demanded in a shrill voice.

"I'm sorry; M'am, but you aren't family. You aren't his emergency contacts. We can't tell you anything right now." The doctor looked at her, then Douglas, who was leaning against the doorway. He looked at Arthur, sitting in the chair by the window, doing nothing.

"So…when can we see him then? He'll tell us." Douglas looked at the doctor, who looked at his watch.

"Soon. They'll bring him down very soon I think. After a CAT scan and MRI." He steps away.

"Well, damn," Carolyn said. "His family won't care. Why shouldn't we know?" She looked up at Douglas.

He sighed. "Ridiculous. We brought him." He sits beside Arthur.

"Skip…is he gonna be all right, Doug?"

"I hardly think Martin goes down this easily, Arthur. We can see him soon."

***

Martin takes a look around the room. So white and clean, he thought. He could sleep here nicely. Better than an attic anyway. And the food, God-the food. There was food here and everyone complains about it, but Martin honestly couldn't wait to look at the menu they hand you can pick up that phone and place an order of whatever he wanted. Just for him. And it'd be a lot of food too, so much Martin couldn't finish but he would sure as hell try.

The door handle clicked and Martin turned his head over. He sat up quickly and pulled his cover up above his waist. Anita smiled and tiptoed in, leaving the door ajar. The light shone in her hair.

"A-Anita. What are you doing here?" Martin straightened himself up against a mountain of pillows. "I thought-"

"Never mind, darling." Her accent seemed even lovelier than before. "I came as soon as I heard what happened. Are you all right?"

Martin looked down and fingered the edges of the blanket. "As fine as I can be, I suppose." He looked up at her. "How did you-"

She sat on the edge of the bed. "Don't be silly, everyone in the hotel knows." She smiled sadly at him. "You're alright, then? Handling things?"

Martin's eyebrows furrowed at her. "What do you-"

"Oh, honey, please. I'm no idiot. I also have great connections." She crossed her legs.

"You haven't let me finish a sentence yet" He said.

She smiled. "I just did."

"Y-Yes, well. There's just one thing I don't understand. We were together last night, right? But I woke up in my room. I don't-"

Anita laughed. It flowed from one breath to another, her voice carrying a beautiful tune. "Martin, don't question things. I'm just here to give you what you want. What you've always wanted." She pats his hand.

"What I've always wanted. Wha-"

Once again, interruption. "Martin, darling, don't think about it. It's pointless. Just enjoy it all." Anita stands up, straightening her skirt. She steps to lean over Martin, kissing him on the cheek. "I'll see you soon." She walks toward the door, turns to wink at him, and steps out. She turns right and walks on into the hall.

Martin puts his hands on the back of his neck and leans over. The pain is back now but only dull. He reaches for the pain medication bottle on the bedside table. The door handle clicks again.


	7. Marseille to Marseilles

Arthur was first into the room. He sprang into the room and yelled out "Skip!" before rushing to the opposite side of the room to the left of Martin's bed, near the window.

"Gosh, it's dark in here."

He opened the curtains, nearly blinding Martin. He put his arm up to block the sun, but his vision was already whited-out and he couldn't see who came into the room next. When he finally could see, Douglas was already sitting in the most comfortable chair in the room, and Carolyn stood at the foot of the bed.

"Well," Douglas took a breath and tapped the arm of the chair. "I think you do know how to grab everyone's attention." He looked over at Martin. Martin's cheeks felt hot. He looked to Carolyn.

"…Sorry." He said it quietly, almost a whisper. Carolyn shook her head.

"Don't apologize; I'm just glad you're alright." She paused, and then asked. "You are…alright, then? Everything's okay?"

Martin's eyes opened wide. Hot cheeks again. He chuckled nervously.

"Oh, just this damn….inner-ear thing. Apparently it is a little…bothered. Stress on the body, I guess. That's what the doctor said." He looked down at his fingers. The tips felt as if there were pins and needles in them. He fidgeted and laughed again, picking his head up. "Nothing a bit of sleep won't cure!"

Douglas studied Martin's face. He looked unconvinced. Martin was never that…cheery on his own.

Arthur interrupted his thoughts. "So, do we have to go back to Fitton, then, Mum?"

Martin answered before she could. "No, we must stay and enjoy Florida a bit more. I can't stand the thought of any England rain just yet." His eyes darted to Carolyn, who bit her lip. She looked at Douglas.

Douglas hit the arm of the chair in enthusiasm. "Of course we have to stay. No future flights until the Burling trip, which isn't for a few weeks. And I dare say someone might enjoy a driving trip to the wonderful world of _D-I-S-N-E-Y._" He nodded over to Arthur, who had found the telly remote and pressed the power button.

Carolyn sighed. "But how will we-" the charges for hotel rooms alone would erase any thought of getting out of debt within he lifetime.

Douglas interrupted. "I am clever, Carolyn. We'll be fine. Sleep in a car, a cheap one at that. I do have extended family in the States who owe me huge favors. That is, if Martin feels up to it, of course." The tone of sarcasm made Martin glare, and then smile.

"I really don't want to go back to the attic. Even a car is better. And I have some money saved up…"

Carolyn threw her hands up. "Alright, alright! We can stay a bit longer. But if we have another episode like today it's straight back home, all of us."

Douglas stood up. "That's settled then. Anything else, then, Martin?" Martin shook his head.

Carolyn headed to the door. "Come on, Arthur."

Martin's head snapped in their direction. "Oh, err…"

Carolyn looked back. Martin cleared his throat. "You know, visiting hours…I think they're until 8 or something."

Douglas stopped in the doorway and turned. "Mmm?"

Carolyn hit his arm lightly. Martin's face felt hotter than ever.

"We could just order some room service here…if you'd like. I won't eat everything anyway, and it's free. You know, save some…save some money."

Carolyn's face looked deep in thought for a moment. Then she realized.

"Oh, of course. Always good for a free meal, we are. Arthur, watch the telly."

Douglas, however, still didn't understand. "But-" Carolyn pinched his arm. "Damn! Oh, oh…yes. As long as they have biscuits and sausage, I'm fine." He scooted his chair closer to the bed. Carolyn pulled another next to his. Arthur channel-surfed.

Martin's blush finally calmed and he gave a genuine smile. "Err…thanks." He leaned over and grabbed his menu to hand to Douglas, who fingered along the choices. He mentally chose one and handed the menu to Carolyn. Then he grinned.

"Marseilles to Marseilles." He smiled triumphantly to Martin.

Martin gawked for a moment. "Oh, now that's just not fair."

"It is too!"

Just then, Arthur jumped a bit in his seat. "Ooh, nickelodeon? A cartoon is on!"


	8. I Can Lie When I Want To

**Thank you so much to everyone who had read this fic and reviewed, favorited, recommended and bookmarked it! I cannot tell you how happy I was when I started writing it and got feedback right away. I've even gotten some personal messages about it, and it made my heart soar. I know that it's been forever since I updated, and for that I apologize. Life has been crazy, and despite the fact that Sherlock was my first love, I started writing sherlock fics after this one, and they took my heart for a while. But this fic needs to move on. You guys have waited long enough and quite frankly, so have I. Poor Martin- I know he is always the victim in fics, hell in the show itself, but it just fits that way, doesn't it? Poor Martin, no money or food, no life, no romance. I hate that this fic supports all of that still, because I wish he could be happy. I really do. So I apologize for this chapter ahead of time, because it doesn't really support that last statement.**

**It means so much that you are still following this, if your are. i hope the wait has been worth it. i've already started the next chapter and will try my best to update my fics (all of them) more in order now, at least try a chapter-for chapter. Here we are! Love, Courtney**

* * *

><p>Douglas was, of course, right as always. Arthur loved Disney World. Having said that, you must have realized by this moment that everyone loved Disney World. But Arthur loved it within the first two minutes of their tram ride from the parking lot to the park's entrance. Everything was "brilliant" in some shape or form. (Let's just forget the fact that he says it about everything else. This is Disney World, of course everything's properly brilliant.)<p>

Douglas was cheerier than usual, Carolyn didn't nag nearly as much, and even Martin was sporting a cheek-to-cheek grin on his face when they stepped through the metal bars into the Wonderful World of Disney. Characters were everywhere, kids were laughing, families bonding; and the only four employees of MJN Air could only just stand for a moment, just to absorb it all. Until Arthur squealed, making a sound similar to a 3-year-old girl.

"Mum! There's Goofy!" He pointed, grinning. Carolyn rolled her eyes but smiled at him. Douglas opened up the park map, silently declaring himself the Tour Guide of the day, and Martin just looked around him, everywhere. He squinted into the sun's light. His skin felt pleasantly warm. The sun trickled over his arms (he was actually wearing a t-shirt) and his sunglasses made him feel invincible.

After a few hours they split up. Carolyn took Arthur to see some of the family rides while Douglas sat on a bench, looking at the map yet again. Martin sat next to him, slipping his aviators off and rubbing the sweat off his nose. All in a flash, he reached over and snatched the map out of Douglas' hands and held it behind him.

"Alright, _Sir_ Tour Guide, that's enough. Just pick a place to go." He folded the map once and stuffed it into his cargo shorts. "We don't need to plan everything. It's an amusement park."

Douglas looked confused as he watched him for a moment. "Spontaneous today, are we? Bit of a change from usual." He raised an eyebrow. Martin shot him a look.

"You've had your nose in that map all day, Douglas. I just want to walk and get on a ride or see a show or take pictures or…something. Something." He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

Douglas stood up and adjusted his cap "All right then, _Mr. Spontaneous, _let's go. You choose the route."

"Fine." Martin stood up and glanced around, eyeing the liberty Square path in front of him. He could see the ferry moving along the water. "Isn't the Haunted Mansion that way?" He pulls out the map form his pocket to try and see. But Douglas snatches the map back from him.

"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. Only one way to see, Martin. Let's go." He starts walking ahead of him, and Martin tries to follow quickly.

"Have you even been to the States before this?" Martin notices a little boy walking past him, with a Mickey Mouse ear hat. Douglas sees too as they start up the little hilled asphalt that led to the Mansion ride.

"Yes, three times. I have one cousin that lives in New York, and she had a wedding there. The other two times I was in Chicago. Both lovely cities, of course, but this one has my fancy so far. Orlando has a wide variety of-" Douglas realizes that Martin is no longer behind him and he turns around, only to see Martin slightly hunched over a few feet behind him, out of breath. Douglas doubles back and walks to him.

"Martin, the whole point of walking up to the ride is to actually _get _there," Douglas starts, but Martin picks his head up and rolls his eyes.

"Just a minute, Douglas. I just want to take a breath." And that's when Douglas notices Martin's cheeks, tinged with pink and beaded with sweat a little. Douglas knew this was the norm at an amusement park, for anyone. But it had only been five minutes since they had started walking and Martin was technically supposed to be _taking it easy. _

"Give me your water bottle," Douglas said. "And sit down, Martin, I don't think Carolyn would appreciate if you collapsed and you had to go the hospital yet again." Martin only nodded and sat on the green bench closest to them, handing Douglas the almost empty bottle.

A few minutes later the water bottle was full from the fountain and Douglas sat down next to Martin, handing it to him. Martin took several gulps before leaning back into the bench, almost immediately feeling better. Douglas relaxed a little more too.

"We can always go back to the hotel," he tried. "If you want to rest."

"I'm fine here, Douglas. Don't be silly."

"I'm just saying, it's only been three days since you-"

"Yes, Douglas, I _know._" Martin sighed. "Can we not talk about it now?"

"Does this mean I need to prepare for talking about it in the future?" Douglas quirks a brow.

"You brought it up!"

Douglas was the one who sighed now. "Nevermind. I'm just…saying."

Martin seemed surprised that Douglas didn't have more to say. He stood up. "Come on, then, Haunted Mansion?" Douglas stood too and inhaled.

"Haunted Mansion, right."

The walk was fairly quick after that. Douglas couldn't tell if Martin was actually feeling better or if he was just trying to look like he was. Douglas watched him take some sort of medication he had gotten from the hospital (Douglas hadn't been able to see what it was yet, Martin of course kept it secret), and he ignored the nagging feeling he had. Finally they were at the end of the line in front of the mansion, just inside the front door.

Martin mumbled something to himself and chuckled, making Douglas raise a brow.

"What?"

"I was just thinking…I should have, I don't know, gotten a doctor's note and a wheelchair. We wouldn't have to wait, probably. It would have been a good excuse."

Douglas chuckled too. "I didn't peg _you _for a liar, Martin."

"I can lie when I want to, " Martin argued, and the way he said it told Douglas that he wasn't lying (ironically). And Douglas didn't wait a second.

"Like about your health?"

Martin narrowed his gaze at him. "Douglas, I said I was fine."

"But you just said you can lie when you want, so I'm just asking."

"Asking-" Martin sounded confused, and then Douglas sounded angry.

"If you're lying about your health! Admit it, Martin, this is more that the inner-ear thing. We have a hospital visit to prove it, not to mention the fact that you can barely walk without getting tired, and you never told me what happened at the hotel that night."

The ride's cars were roaring into earshot now, and they were all in the room where the voice comes into the intercom to try an scare you before you've even sat down in a car yet. Martin looked around and admired the pain on the walls; grateful for an interruption. Douglas watched Martin's eyes.

The door opened and on they walked as a group, and finally the cars came into view. They moved fairly quickly by themselves and an attendant set you up in your groups. Douglas held up two fingers to the attendant and she nudged them in the direction of a moving car-and Douglas realized the cars don't stop for you. You have to hurry the hell up and get in before you're left.

Martin had realized this back at the beginning of the room and stepped in front of Douglas to get into the car. "Come on!" he said loudly, holding out his hand. Douglas took it and struggled to get into the car, surprisingly making it in just enough time for the car to shoot forward a bit into the dark hallway.

It was enjoyable so far; Martin loved the graphics across the wall, the digital-made ghosts and spirits that flew overhead and startled you. Douglas enjoyed it too, although he was probably a little more startled than he would care to admit.

They reached the part of the ride where the car spun in circles quickly, and that's when it all changed.

At first, it was fine. Martin told himself it would be over in a few seconds, probably three at the most, and Douglas glanced to him in his peripheral vision, wondering if it was too much for Martin. It was longer than three seconds-hell, it could have been an hour, because that's what it felt like. Martin suddenly realized he couldn't make it. He wouldn't make it. His head hurt more than it did this morning, and that was when he woke up wondering who had planted a damn bomb in there. And everything swerved around him, in circles and in squares- it took him a second to realize he was seeing colors. He gripped onto the bar tighter in front of him and took a deep breath.

"Douglas." His voice came out quiet but it was the loudest thing inside to mansion at the same time, to Douglas' ears. He turned a bit.

"It's almost over, Martin, keep breathing. Fainting in rides makes you a wuss."

Martin smiled at that, but a surge of light panged at his head again, making him close his eyes. His voice broke this time. "Douglas-"

"Yes, yes, I know, just hold on-" And suddenly Martin did the only thing he could do to make himself feel grounded, feel unmoving-he grabbed Douglas' hand.

"Douglas, I'm dying!" His head warped between real life and fantasy, and he felt like throwing it all up. "Douglas-"

Douglas turned his face to Martin, uncaring about the hand-holding, or anything else for that matter. "Martin, you aren't dying, it's a ride!"

"I'm dying-"

"No you're not!"

"Douglas!" And Martin opened his eyes to see Douglas' staring into them, just as the spinning stopped and their car slowly crawled up the conveyor belt to the end of the ride. Douglas cleared his throat.

"You're…you're not."

And all Martin could do was laugh and let go of Douglas' hand.


	9. I've Never Been Proud a Day in My life

**Thank you so much for being patient with me. So very much. I hope this gets you the tiniest bit happy, until I can write more As always, reviews and recs are appreciated. If you'd like you can tag my tumblr url (found on my profile page here). -Cortni**

* * *

><p>Martin got through the exit door with a violent push, storming in front of Douglas. He strode ahead, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand- and Douglas trying to catch up. Douglas forced out a laugh, trying to break the awkward (and, from the looks of Martin, angry) silence between them, in a loud park full of families and screaming children.<p>

"Thought you might have made it, Martin. You almost did too-"

"Shut up." Martin growled without looking back, trudging up the hilled asphalt to an unknown destination. "Just-"

Douglas rolled his eyes. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, Martin, I was just-"

"Shut up!" Martin stops and turns around, eyes seemingly dark. "Shut up, Douglas, just shut it!"

Douglas stopped too, looking up at Martin, confused. "Martin?"

"It isn't funny. You're not…" Martin takes a deep breath, wiping some new formed sweat form his forehead. "You're not funny."

"I wasn't _trying _to be funny, Martin. Not entirely, anyway. Calm down."

"I most certainly will not!" Martin exclaims, causing one Mother to glance over as she passed.

Douglas raised an eyebrow. "If you're not feeling well, Martin, we can sit down."

"I'm feeling fine, Douglas." Martin huffs.

"Then why in God's name are you shouting at me in the middle of Disney World?"

It was almost as if everything had stopped then- no families walking around them, all of the rides had stopped moving. Martin sighed and glanced around, looking slightly confused now too.

"I don't…" he rubs the back of his neck with one hand. "I don't know."

"Well, I'm glad we cleared that up." Douglas takes a few steps to reach Martin, patting his shoulder. "Perhaps the heat really is getting to you. Let's have a sit-down, a cool drink, and Mr. Spontaneous can choose our next fun-filled location. I'd like to enjoy a few more things before Carolyn and Arthur meet up with us tonight."

Martin nodded slightly, allowing himself to be led with Douglas' hand right between his shoulder blades. He pulled his water bottle out and took a large drink, immediately feeling relieved.

"Could have been the medication," Martin mumbles to himself.

"Hmm?" Douglas takes a drink from his own bottle, looking over at him. "What do you mean, medication? You're only taking Tylenol."

Martin blushed. "Well…they gave me some pain meds for my head. A, erm…" his pinks shade darker if possible. "I don't remember the name. I think mood swings, that was a side effect."

Douglas studies him intently, not saying anything for a second. Finally he takes another drink with a smack of the lips and opens his mouth.

"That paired with the heat, I suppose anyone could get nasty."

"I wasn't _nasty, _Douglas."

"You were getting there."

"Oh, come on."

Neither of them says anything after that. Martin looks around at the tall buildings and show stages, and Douglas at a few children passing by. Martin finally says something.

"Isn't there a train?"

"Mhm." Douglas nods absently.

"Could we just get ton that for a bit? …Ride around?" Martin turns to him.

"You want to ride the train. At Disney World." He sounds disbelieving, knowing full-on Martin was serious.

"Yeah, we could just get off if we see something we like-"

"I'd think about rephrasing that statement, Martin-"

"Shut up!" Martin half shouts but starts laughing, his pinks turning pink but from embarrassment. "Y'know what I meant."

"Yes."

"Yes you know what I meant, or…?" Martin raises his eyebrows.

"Yes. There's the other train too, this one." Douglas pulls out the map from the front pocket of Martin's bag, pointing. "It's just a small one, it goes through the park instead of around it. We could see more. It's a bit faster too. Tunnels and all that. For us daredevils." He smirks.

Martin chuckles. "You forgot spontaneous."

"Quite right. That's really what you want to do?"

Martin almost looks sheepish as he nods." Could be…relaxing. You said I needed to take it easy. We'll find a ride on the way."

"Fine by me." Douglas stands.

"This is quite nice, actually." Martin slouches a bit in the seat, allowing his posture to be absolutely horrible. Douglas stretches his arms out as they enter the tunnel near space Mountain, with Buzz Lightyear's voice booming in their speakers.

"Not too bad, quite right." He blinks to adjust to the darkness, and then like that they're back in regular sunlight again. "What pain meds are you taking?"

Martin gives him a look. "Told you, I don't remember."

"But you have them with you, yeah?"

"No."

"They're pain meds, Martin, yes you do. I'm sure I saw you take a pill earlier."

"So?"

"You could pull them out, read me the label. Or hand the bottle to me?"

""S not important, Douglas. Just some low-grade pain meds-"

"How did you afford them?" Douglas interrupts.

"I said I had some money saved up." Martin speaks defiantly.

"Enough for a trip to the happiest place on Earth and a hospital stay in the states?"

Martin turns a bright shade of red, as if he didn't even realize this until now. "I'll just have…to figure it out. I always do."

Douglas sighs. "Nearly starving and living in a dorm house attic is not exactly what I call _figuring it out._"

"Look, it-it doesn't matter!" Martin groans and rubs the palms of his hand into his eyes. "I'm not going to think about it now of all times, or here of all places. Or with you, of all people."

Douglas sits up a bit in his seat, looking into his eyes. "Martin, if you want-"

"No." Martin sits up too, shaking his head. "I'm serious. And anyway, taking pity from my first officer isn't going to help me any more than collections calling my house. I said I will think about it later. It's a vacation, for Christ's sake. I want to enjoy myself." He reaches into his bag angrily, pulling out the aforementioned pill bottle, and unscrewing the top. One pill into his mouth quickly, bottle back in the bag. Before Douglas could even read the first letter.

"Martin, please. You can stop being proud any moment now." Douglas eyes him as he swallows the pill and closes his eyes, letting his head fall back for a minute. Martin's body visibly relaxes, slouching into the seat again as he exhales.

"I've never been proud a day in my life, Douglas. I'm not about to start now."

Douglas sighs and looks out into the park as they pass the main drag.

"Funny, what you said on the plane, you know. Scared me for a minute, there."

Martin picks his head up, looking at Douglas with a confused face.

"Wh-What did I say?"

"Oh, you know," Douglas waves his hand in dismissal, "The 'dying' bit." He watches martin for his reaction.

Martin lets out one laugh and turns to look out into the park too, watching a mother with her son in a stroller.

He always hoped he'd have a kid. Just one, so he could tell them they could be whatever they wanted to be.

"Yeah, I suppose it was amusing." Martin laughs again, sitting up straight again. "Although I did feel like it at the time."

"I've always wondered what it would _feel _like, to be dying. If you knew." Martin thinks aloud and crossed his right leg over his left. "It it a sense of foreboding or…maybe a relief?"

"I suppose it could depend….on how long you know? Say in a plane crash, it's probably terrifying. But if you know ahead of time, maybe…" Martin swallows. "Maybe it's more of a relief. Don't really have to worry about anything."

"Mmm." Douglas nods, still looking out. "But anyway, you'd still know, wouldn't you? I'd say that's something to feel bad about either way. Knowing what was coming." He shivers. "Nope, that'd be unpleasant."

Martin looks up at him, swallowing again. He squints his eyes as the sun flashes overhead before they enter a tunnel for the third time.

"Unpleasant, yeah. Sounds about right." He sighs and suddenly feels the weight of the pill in his stomach, and his aches don't disappear anywhere near fast enough.

Douglas doesn't realize, but Martin watches his face for a long time after that.

The children's laughter on the other end of the train is finally able to distract him.


	10. Is that What it's Like?

Anita came to him again.

He was alone in his and Douglas' room. Martin wanted to take a shower before they went to see the fireworks at Disney- Douglas insisted that he smelled _fine, don't be ridiculous Martin,_ but the combination of sweat sticking to Martin's shirt and his now throbbing headache prompted the decision to ride the monorail back to the hotel for a bit. He was tired, anyway. And a long hot shower sounded perfect right now.

And perfect it was. Martin stood underneath the warm water for a good twenty-five minutes, eyes closed and breaths deepening. If nothing else, it dulled the roaring pain in his head, the constant _thump-thump-thump _that drowned out his ears and the _thud-thud-thud _he could feel down to his neck. He rolled his shoulders and sighed before stepping out, wrapping a towel around his waist.

The quiet of the room was peaceful. No obnoxious late-night American telly host that Douglas would have otherwise had on, no cartoons eliciting laughter from Arthur. And Carolyn's shrill voice was nowhere to be heard.

So when Martin looked up from his suitcase after hearing a knock at the door, he cursed under his breath. Leave it to Douglas to follow him back. Couldn't he just mind his own-

But Anita stood in the doorway, and Martin almost felt his knees buckle. Her skin was tanner, if that was possible. She smiled and slid her hand up the door's frame, leaning a bit. Her velvety voice cut into the silence, but suddenly Martin didn't mind.

"I was wondering when I'd catch you alone, darling. It's been too long."

Martin wondered how often he'd be seeing Anita, and why he was seeing her at all. But just like before, all of his thoughts surrounded Anita and her beauty, her accent, her _being- _and suddenly Martin didn't give a toss why she was coming to him. That didn't matter, really, did it? She was coming to him. That's what mattered.

"I just…" Martin swallowed audibly. "I just saw you two days ago, didn't I? Y..Yes, two days, wasn't it?" He curled his toes absently and she smiled that smile; Lips curling and plumping but no showing of the teeth. Martin suddenly remembered something about a quote, something with teeth, but he couldn't place it.

But Anita's womanly giggle cut into his thoughts. "Oh, love, stop _thinking _about it, won't you?" She took a step closer, lowering her voice. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

Oh, hell. Martin was done for. He knew it already. "O-Of course, sorry, here-" He opened the door and stepped back, watching her glide into the room. Her heels made no sound on the cheap motel carpet but Martin counted her steps. "Come in, do you want something to drink?"

"I should have come earlier." Anita glances around as Martin closed the door behind her, taking a deep breath to calm himself. "I see I missed shower time." She turned her head slightly to look Martin up and down once. And well, if that didn't cause Martin's heart to pound even louder in his head he didn't know what would. He realized the deep V- line down the back of her red dress, showing skin until just the end of her spine. He cleared his throat.

"Ah, yes- it was warm at the park. Thought I'd clean up a bit. Meeting my friends for the-"

"Such a shame," she interrupted, dropping her purse on the chair and turning to sit on the edge of the bed. "Cleaning up only to get dirty again."

And then, she winked. Martin immediately gave up on all coherent thought.

"Dunno...what you mean?" He squeaked out, stuck between staying where he was and tackling her back onto the bed. The carpet beneath him felt wet; water still dripped down his thighs and calves. Speaking of calves-

"Come here, darling. "Anita held her hand out to him suddenly, palm down, and the next thing Martin knew he had taken it, pressing his lips to it and kneeling in front of her.

It felt appropriate at the time. Despite the fact that he only had his towel on.

She smiled down at him, but still no teeth. A nagging thought bit at Martin's brain. But before he could think about it she spoke again, focusing his thoughts for him.

"How are we feeling today, love? I hear you were a bit…irritable today? Forgetful?"

"How did…" Martin dropped her hand and leaned back on his heel, "What do you mean?"

"Mood swings from your medication, that was a good cover." She reached her hand to brush a stray curl from his forehead. "Douglas isn't an idiot, though."

"Nevermind that." Martin bit out the words. He didn't need a reminder of what he already knew.

Anita raised her eyebrows at him, tugging his earlobe. "Don't get snippy with me, darling. Attitude makes me angry. And you don't want to see me angry."

Martin suddenly felt and overwhelming feeling of guilt and he looked down. "Sorry…'S just…" he thought about it, unsure of what it was, "this headache, I suppose."

Anita let out a small laugh and tilted his chin up. "Don't think about what Douglas said. He may not be an idiot, but he doesn't know anything about dying. Not yet."

The feeling of guilt morphed into a sense of anger, and Martin felt his pulse pick up. "Can't he ever leave anything alone?"

Anita grabbed his wrist gently. "He cares, Martin, despite what you think." She pats the bed beside her. "Come on."

Before he could think about it Martin was sitting beside her, one leg bent on the bed and one hanging. They faced each other- Martin trying to even his breaths and Anita studying him intently, head tilted.

"You're upset, love, admit it." She spoke gently and quietly, just above a whisper.

Martin replied immediately, defiantly. "'M not upset."

"Yes you are. Look at me, Darling." She touched his knee and he blinked, forcing the gaze to the threads of the comforter he sat on, then counting the pills of fabric on his towel. They were so small he felt dizzy.

Anita waited a second before trying again, but she spoke firmly. "Martin, look. At me." Her R rolled into the T this time, but Martin still looked down. He wasn't upset. And now she was prying-

Anita spoke again but loudly, almost in a shrill tone. "Look at me!" And suddenly Martin felt his head pick up to look at her- and Martin realized her fingertips were digging into his chin slightly. He swallowed.

"I'm not-"

"Do not lie to me." Anita spoke slowly before loosening her grip on Martin's jaw line, her voice resuming its original smoothness. "I am here to make you happy, darling. Why won't you let me?" She traced her finger down Martin's cheek, looking into his eyes. "I just want you to tell me how you feel. It isn't difficult."

Martin furrowed his brows. "I…I don't understand, Anita."

"That's the best part, Martin. You don't need to understand. You just have to listen to me."

Martin thinks this over for a moment and sighs. "I'm going to be late for the fireworks..."

"Don't worry about that. You're worried about what he said, aren't you?" Anita moved closer to him, her fingertip playing with the hem of Martin's towel. He nodded, licking his lips.

"_I've always wondered what it would feel like, to be dying. If you knew…Maybe it's more of a relief. Don't really have to worry about anything."_

"_Mmm." Douglas nods, still looking out. "But anyway, you'd still know, wouldn't you? I'd say that's something to feel bad about either way. Knowing what was coming." He shivers. "Nope, that'd be unpleasant."_

Martin found himself speaking before he could think about it. "He…is that what it's like? …Unpleasant? D'you think?"

How did she know what Douglas-

Anita's lips were inches away from his now, her voice only a whisper. "You tell me, darling. You know better than I."

And suddenly Martin was crying- loudly and obnoxiously, his tears ruining the satin shoulder of Anita's dress. His chest heaved and hurt, his head hurt even more than before; But even after only thirty seconds of listening to Anita's shushes and feeling her palm on his bare back rubbing in circles, Martin's shoulder's felt lighter. He carried a weight less heavy than just hours before.

It went on like this for…well, Martin wasn't sure. It could have been ten minutes, maybe an hour. He cried silently, he cried loudly, and when he thought he was done crying somehow he felt his eyes find new tears to bring forward. He couldn't remember the last time it was like this. When he was little, maybe. The third time failing his tests. The fifth time.

Somewhere in the middle of hit, he choked out the words.

"It…it feels _terrible_, Anita."

All she said was, "I know."

Doulas opened the hotel room door quietly, almost afraid of seeing Martin passed out on the floor.

He was on the bed but it didn't raise his spirits enough yet.

He was curled up on Douglas' side of the mattress, hand twitching every so many seconds. His lips moved slowly but he wasn't saying anything. Only his towel was wrapped around his waist.

Carolyn placed her hand on his forehead as Arthur peered over her shoulder. "Fever," She whispered and Douglas went to get a cool cloth, applying it to his neck. Martin shudders in response, curling up a bit more.

Douglas sighed. "I suppose it's going to be a long night."

Arthur's brows furrowed and he circled the bed. "Is he going to the hospital again?"

A quick look from Carolyn and Douglas shook his head. "Nahh. Martin's strong fellow, he'll pull through. Probably a bad headache, small flu." He grabbed Martin's backpack from beside the bed and started rummaging through it. "His pills are supposed to…ah." He pulled out the bottle from the small pocket inside the front part, reading it.

"What is it? He's never said they gave him anything." Carolyn furrowed her brows.

Douglas speaks quietly, surprised. "It's just…Vanquish." He shrugs.

"What in the world is that?"

"Just…" Douglas shrugged. "Just a higher dose of Tylenol, really. Not an actual painkiller like I thought."

"Like you thought?" Martin made a small noise and Carolyn instantly patted his arm.

"Well he was taking quite a few, is all. But the dosage is fairly weak. Maybe the headaches are bad." He sat down on the edge of the bed slowly, as to not disturb Martin.

Carolyn sucked in a breath and looked down at Martin. "Can't just be the inner ear thing. It seem…worse." She almost looked worried as she watched Martin sleep, holding the cloth to his neck.

Martin stirred and mumbled suddenly and Douglas leaned a bit to listen.

"T…teeth." Martin's eyes shut hard and his neck arched a bit.

"What the hell…?" Carolyn looked at Douglas questioningly, and all he gave her was a shrug. "I dunno."

She sighed and readjusted the cloth on martin's neck, as his eyelids fluttered.

"_I do believe it has something to do with your soul." Douglas says, looking up at the ceiling in contemplation. "To bare your teeth is to bare your soul?" He shrugs. "Can't really remember."_

_Martin gives him a look. "I've never heard of that before. I think you just make these things up to try and impress me."_

"_Yes, because that's my goal in life, Martin. To impress the great supreme commander, Sir."_

"_Shut up."_


	11. You Have to be Alive to Fly a Plane

Martin's heart pounded in his chest- it danced, really, fluttered a bit somewhere in there- and he tried to sit up. The light from the window shone into the room...

It was _morning _already? But the fireworks...Martin groaned and suddenly a pair of hands were on his shoulders, trying to push him back down on the bed.

Anita. She's probably still-

But Martin opened his eyes (that was really difficult, actually, because it felt like his eyelids were two sheets of steel over his eyes) and Douglas was looming over him. His voice was lined with worry. "Martin. Martin, it's alright, lie down."

Martin felt the soft pillow underneath his head again and he forgot about Anita, mostly. He blinked his eyes to hold them open for another minute, and there was Carolyn on the opposite side of the bed.

Another blink and he saw Arthur, too. What's-

But before Martin could even ask Douglas spoke first. "You're alright, Martin, need some sleep-"

_That's ridiculous, _Martin thought inside his head. _I've just been sleeping. _

Or maybe he said it, because as usual Douglas was arguing with him and now Carolyn too.

"Just a fever, Martin...some tylenol and sleep-"

_Damn it, Douglas, I just slept!_

"We'll be back, going to get a doctor-"

Martin felt himself try move but Douglas' hands were too strong...or maybe he was too weak.

_'M fine, _Martin tried to groan out, _Already saw a doctor, for Christ's sake!_ His vision was blurry and suddenly he didn't really care, _Go away, all of you..._

His eyes closed and he saw black, felt the world slipping away.

"What does that mean?" Carolyn stood quickly, wringing her hands. "What does that mean, he's _'already fine, he'll be fine, not much longer'?" _She took a glance at Arthur, who's face seemed a little paler. "What does that _mean, _Douglas?"

Douglas heaved a great sigh and reached for the first white lie he could come up with, though it still felt utterly ridiculous. "He's just delirious, Carolyn. Fevers make you say funny things. Let's just get him a doctor, alright? No sense worrying until a doctor says to." He stood and grabbed his mobile, pocketing it.

Arthur's voice was really quiet when he spoke. "Skip...he'll be alright, right mum?"

Carolyn didn't miss a beat as usual, composing her voice as she pulled another blanket over Martin and avoided Arthur's eyes. "Yes of course, he just needs some sleep and fluids." She turned her head to see Douglas, speaking slowly. "Just a flu."Arthur exhaled in relief and went back to his cheery demeanor.

Douglas nodded and stood. "Yes, I think we would be correct in calling this little show _"Martin putting us through the ringer."_ He cleared his throat. "He's fine, Arthur, quite pacing for God's sake. You need to keep your eyes on him while Carolyn and I go look for an actual profesional."

"I can be a professional!" Arhutr argued.

Maybe it was the way Skip was laying on the bed, or maybe it was the weird sounds he was making- but Arthur just felt…

Uncomfortable.

Martin didn't look _normal_. He wasn't laying normal in the bed, he had three blankets over his body in a weird way, and he sounded like he was talking gibberish!

Arthur couldn't help giggling a bit when Martin spoke some of these weird words, but he tried to stay professional.

They gave him a job, didn't they? Mum and Douglas. _Watch him, Arthur. Don't take your eyes off him for one minute. We'll be back soon._

Well he was going to do this job right. For Skip's sake, anyway.

Martin shifted under the covers and moaned quietly, making Arthur shiver. He stood and leaned over the bed slightly, patting Martin's arm.

"'S okay, Skip, you'll feel loads better soon, and then we can go to Disney again."

But the only response Arthur got from Martin was another groan, an upset-sounding one.

"Aww, Skip, you can't get _worse_, can you? Doulgas said it's just a flu, and when I get the flu it's only a few days that I'm all achey and I don't think my fever's ever been this high-"

But apparently Martin didn't _care _about Arthur's flu or his temperature, because he had suddenly started to roll around on the bed, closer to the edge. Arthur sucked in a breath, "Wait! Skip-" He pressed his knees against Martin's back on the edge of the bed as Martin tried to roll backwards off of it- "Skip, you can't move now, I'm all alone and I know you're small but remember the time Mum let me carry those boxes at the airfield and you said they were too heavy but I said they weren't?" Why couldn't Martin just listen?

"Well you were right, they were too heavy and I dropped them! And I'm pretty sure you weigh more than those boxes." But did he? Arthur thought about it: Martin's arms were probably the weight of one box, maybe his legs were another box, and his body is probably two-

But as if to answer Arthur's question and test all of his theories and his _professionalism _Martin had decided to roll off the bed anyway. And Arthur wasn't quick enough to react by catching him- Well, he _was _thinking about how much Skip weighed, it wasn't his fault- and suddenly Martin was on the floor, groaning loudly.

Probably because of the way he landed. It looked quite painful, it did.

Arthur looked around. "Skip, see? I can't even catch you, how am I supposed to lift you?" There wasn't anything in the hotel room that he could use to lift an airline captain and even if there was and Arthur went to get it that would mean taking his eyes off of Martin. And that was his rule. _Keep your eyes on Martin, Arthur. _

"Ohh…" Arthur let out a strangled groan of his own, trying to think.

In response, Martin twitched on the floor sort of funny.

"Skip?" Arthur swallowed and crouched down, feeling Martin's head as it jerked almost into his completely. "Skip, what's…why're you moving like that? That's not safe, you'll probably hit your head."

Martin was really being insufferable now, not listening to Arthur. Didn't he care that Arthur needed to be a professional and keep his eyes on him?

"I've got to move you, Skip, dunno if it'll hurt but you've got to be on the bed when Mum gets back…" And so Arthur moved on to trying to lift Martin, very slowly and carefully.

These sort of actions usually don't end well in Arthur's case, but it had to be done.

It required taking his eyes off Martin for probably one minute while he closed his eyes and grunted, but he needed to do that to get the most of Martin's body back on the bed. After a few minutes more and a few more groans from Martin, Arthur had him lying on his back this time, and surprisingly more towards the middle.

"Now if you roll over you won't be right on the edge, Skip! And I'll have time to push you back before you move."

Martin didn't say anything.

"Come on, Martin, why can't you wake up and be normal like before? Flu's aren't all tha bad, I can always talk when I have one."

Silence met Arthur's words and he huffed. "Well fine, Skip, you can just keep on…not talking then. I'll talk for both of us."

He watched Martin breathe heavily for a while, cheeks red. He stood and paced around the bed, still keeping his eyes on Martin as he did. Because that was his one job, and Mum won't know about him falling if he doesn't say anything, so he's okay for now.

But Skip wasn't.

"It is the flu, right, Martin? I mean your head's hot like a flu." Arthur swallowed and waited for Martin to speak. "Right, you're not talking. Sorry."

Martin made a small noise and his eyes fluttered.

"It has to be the flu, though…you can't fly a plane if you're _really _sick, and that's all you want to do, Skip. It just _has _to be the flu. It's…it's just the flu, right?"

Arthur was beginning to hate the silence that met all of his questions and theories. And suddenly his chest felt tight and heavy, and his head pounded on the inside.

"Skip, what if it…what if it's _not _the flu?" Arthur spoke louder now, throwing his hands up and looking worried. "What if it's _worse _than the flu, and you can't fly a plane anymore, and you can't be a captain if you can't fly a plane! So what are you gonna do?" He took a deep breath, suddenly feeling sad for Martin. "We all know you don't really _like _being a man with a van…"

Martin's body jerked once again, and Arthur made a small noise in the back of his throat. He walked over to the side of the bed Martin was closest to, and opened one of his eyelids. His eyeball rolled back. Arthur spoke deliberately and slowly.

"Skip, Skip, I know being a man with a van isn't the best job, but if you want I'll help, but you have to get better. Even if you're too sick to fly a plane you can drive and I'll carry all of your stuff for you."

Martin's eyelid tried to close but Arthur pried it open again, looking into his eye and speaking quietly. "You can't get worse, Martin, you can't. Some people get _really _sick and then…well…well, they die. And you can't…" Arthur swallowed audibly. Telling Martin the reason he couldn't die would be sort of selfish and uninspiring, so he settled for a reason Martin might care about. "You can't be a captain if you're dead. You have to be alive to fly a plane."

Martin didn't give Arthur any reason to feel better after that, but his body seemed to relax a little and Arthur let go of his eyelid. He sat down.

He was keeping an eye on Martin the whole time after that, so he didn't see how long it was before Mum and Douglas came back. Arthur double checked, and it really wasn't too noticeable that Martin rolled off the bed entirely.

We all know how good of a liar Arthur is, though.


	12. Souls that Converse

"I profoundly do not understand," Douglas clicked his phone shut as Carolyn pulled into the parking garage of the hotel, "How his family can be so-"

"And the bloody States!" Carolyn interrupted. "Their silly rules, why did we even come-"

"He's just stubborn." Douglass muttered. "Too stubborn for his own good and it's going to get him in troub-"

"He could just tell us what's wrong, really, it isn't that hard-"

"It _could_ be the inner-ear thing, if his meds are so low-"

"He will never hear the end of this, I will never let him forget-"

"What if it isn't though, he wouldn't really try to keep it a secret, would he?"

The car grew silent as Carolyn turned the key and pulled it out of the ignition. Douglas looked at her and she sucked in a breath, looking ahead.

"He would be extremely stupid if he was keeping something from us."

Douglas laughed once, sarcastically. "Think of who we're _talking _about, Carolyn."

"Yes, I know!" She pushed the car door open with her foot angrily, stepping out. "But why, _why_ would he not tell us if something was going on?"

Douglas slammed his own door shut, thinking. "Unless he doesn't know."

"He spent two days in a hospital, where we all know they jabbed at him with more needles than they would have to a diabetic. He would know."

"That wasn't a very good analogy." Douglas rubbed his forehead and thought of Disney, his and Martin's conversation.

"_It it a sense of foreboding or…maybe a relief?"_

Carolyn studied him carefully. "Douglas."

"Hmm?" Douglas shook his head and headed to the garage elevator. "Look, we just wasted two hours trying to get Martin's medical records from an American hospital, and trying to get permission from his ridiculously pompous broth-"

Carolyn interrupted his rant, following closely beside him. "Yes, I think you're right about wasting time. Maybe his fever broke while we were gone. I'm sure Arthur-"

"Might not have killed him?" Douglas suggested in a chipper voice, and she sighed.

"Must you always be so inappropriate?"

"Only appropriately, madam." The elevator door dinged as they headed to Martin's and Douglas' room.

* * *

><p>"Oh! Hi, Mum! Was professional, just like you said-"<p>

"Arthur, why is the floor wet?" Carolyn sounded appalled and Arthur blushed

"Well, you see, Martin was shaking a bit and he kept swallowing and trying to say something so I-"

"Decided to clean the carpet?" Douglas stepped to the edge of the bed facing Martin, who was just as sweaty as before and definitely more pale looking.

Arthur argued defiantly. "No! I was trying to give the water to Skip but he started hitting at me and rolling around and he smacked the glass out of my hand! And that's why it's on the floor. I could have yelled at him but it wasn't very prof-"

"Oh, give it a rest, Arthur, please. Why don't you go watch some telly and Douglas and I will watch Martin for a bit." Carolyn set her purse on the nightstand. Arthur looked worried.

"But…you said…what about a doctor?"

"A doctor…well, we couldn't get one. And without Martin's medical records…"

"But _Mum_. You said!"

"Yes, I know what I said and I am saying to you now, _go watch telly_." Carolyn's voice wavered and Arthur sighed, retreating into the living room. Douglas watched as Carolyn pinched the bridge of her nose and sat on the edge of the bed.

"We could call one of our doctors, give them his symptoms." He spoke quietly, pulling Martin's covers back a bit. His chest was shining with sweat, but he was shivering.

"And have them give us a very_ long_ list of possibilities? What good would it do?" She slipped her shoes off onto the carpet.

Douglas retrieved a wash rag from the bathroom, after cooling it under the faucet. He grabbed the ice bucket and brought it over to the side of the bed. "I suppose we'd need a specialist anyway."

Carolyn raised an eyebrow. "How do you assume-"

"Carolyn," Douglas lightly wiped Martin's exposed skin with the rag, listening to a soft sigh escaping Martin's lips. "Headaches, equilibrium issues, he could be seeing things…I'll bet he needs a neurologist. Something with his brain."

"Maybe he's going insane." Carolyn offered sadly, turning on the bed to look at Martin. "I feel like _I'm _going insane."

"Yes, well." Douglas pulled the covers a bit more and wiped Martin's legs down. "It would explain why he didn't saying anything about it."

"I was only joking!" Carolyn threw her hands up.

"Will you stop snapping at me?" Douglas chuckled. "I was only joking too!"

"Now is not the time, is it?"

"Is it ever," Douglas muttered. He closed the curtains, and darkness lined Martin's face.

* * *

><p>Martin rolled over on the bed, listening to his bones creak.<p>

What? Bones don't…he opened his eyes.

"Oh!" He jumped up and pulled the covers up to his chest, blushing. But Anita only laughed from where she was standing at the side of the bed, watching him.

"Nothing I haven't seen before, darling. Or wouldn't like to see again." She grinned and lowered onto the mattress, slipping beneath the same blanket as Martin. He looked her over once, licking his lips.

"Th-That's a nice…a nice nightgown." He glanced around the hotel room, wondering why Douglas wasn't there. And by the line of light peeking through the window, he could tell it was morning already. The light cast over Anita's collarbone, jutting out only slightly under the thin red strap of her dress…thing. Martin cleared his throat. "Nice, yes…wait."

She raised an eyebrow, sliding closer to him on the bed. "Why wait? I think you're plenty awake now. I've been waiting."

"Wh-You were watching me sleep?" Martin's voice climbed up a note as he shifted his legs. "Why?"

"So I could spend the morning with you. We can do whatever you want." Anita's voice dropped a bit as her hand slipped under the cover and ghosting over Martin's hip. He inhaled sharply-

"Wh-Whatever I want?" _Shut up, Martin. She just said that._

"Yes, darling. Though I know I won't need to ask what that is." Her fingers trailed over his skin until-

_Oh. _Martin exhaled, his head tilting back. "I…I don't…."

"Shh…" Anita hushed him, the covers suddenly disappearing and her lips trailing over Martin's chest, and lower.

Martin promptly shut up.

"You are a very attractive man." Anita's R's rolled quietly into Martin's shoulder as her fingers traced his abdomen muscles. They weren't terribly prominent, but lifting boxes and pianos does give you a little bit of sculpting.

He chuckled nervously. "N-No, but thanks." He felt loose-limbed, bones like jelly as he kissed her hairline out of instinct. "No one ever says things like…."

"Like I do? I know. That's why I'm here." Anita hummed quietly and draped her leg over Martin's. "No one's ever been really nice to you, have they?"

Martin thought about it. "Well that's not quite true." Carolyn let him keep his job after all, and Arthur's always nice just in general-

"You don't even get paid, Martin. What kind of pilot is that, hmm?"

Wait.

"How do you know I don't get paid?" _And how did you know I was thinking about my job?_ Martin sat up and Anita rolled her eyes, lying on her back as he turned to look at her.

"You ask the silliest questions. I told you I have connections."

"To who, though? I don't understand." Martin frowned, bad thoughts suddenly invading his mind. "Did my family send you?" Old secondary school tricks turned ugly; He suddenly remembered the one time a girl had asked him to dance only to pour punch over his head when he nodded. He shivered.

"That's even sillier than your first question." Anita sat up slowly, placing a chaste kiss onto Martin's jaw line. "Martin, you understand what's happening, don't you?" She spoke slowly, as if he was a child. Not that he didn't feel like one- even if he was naked.

"No…No, am I supposed to?"

"Think about it." Anita slipped from the bed, still naked herself, and walked over to the kitchen area of the hotel room. She grabbed an apple from the counter, and a small knife, feeding herself a small slice of the fruit before walking back.

As she sat on the mattress cross-legged, skin touching Martin's, she held out a slice for him too. He parted his lips slightly and took it in, chewing slowly and watching.

"You're not real, are you?" He already knew this, somehow, but hearing the words from his mouth somehow solidified the idea into truth.

"Very good. But, very easy." Anita gave him a scolding look, and another slice of apple went into his mouth. "I was real, once. Ages ago."

"What does your name mean?" He spoke suddenly, without pause, and the question surprised him. She lit up.

"Interesting! No one's asked that before. My name, in most translations, means _grace_. Or mercy." She crunched an apple slice between her teeth. "Ask me something else, Martin. You're very clever."

But Martin's brain was rattling away, something finally loosening up in that skull of his, trying to get out. He closed his eyes, muttering for a moment, until finally:

_He opened his eyes, smelling the disinfectant of the hospital room again before remembering where he was. He was going home today. Douglas stood at the door._

_They walked past many paintings, in the halls- Saints and children, nature and beautiful people. But one of the frames on a wall had a quote. One Martin read only once as he was passing._

"Souls that converse much with sin and wrath, may be much terrified; but souls that converse much with grace and mercy, will be much humbled." Martin's eyelids fluttered open as he recited the quote, feeling astonished at his own memory. Then again, this wasn't really happening, was it?

But Anita's smile seemed so real, her lips curving slightly as she fed another slice of the half-eaten apple into Martin's mouth. He barely swallowed it down before she captured a kiss, lips sliding together, the crunch of _her _apple slice and _his _ragged breathing sounding obscene in the silence of the room.

She pulled back slowly, and suddenly Martin forgot the quote- it felt as if it was being dragged from his mind, and Anita pulled the rope.

_Crunch. _She took another bite.

"Anita, why are you here? If you're…I-If you're not real." Martin watched her lips move, as the _crunch crunch _of the apple nearly made his ears hurt. A bit of apple juice ran down to her chin. All of a sudden all he wanted to do was lick it up-

No.

"Anita-"

"You are a very handsome man, you know." She sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "It is true. It's amazing you haven't had a girlfriend."

"Well, I had-"

"That doesn't count." She gave him a knowing look. "But, I like being here with you. Any girl would be so lucky to be yours." Suddenly the apple was gone, but not the knife-and Anita climbed over Martin's waist to straddle him, turning the blade in her fingers.

"I…what?" Martin kept his eyes on the blade as he was pushed back into his pillows. It glinted in the ray of sunlight through the curtains, a flash of white blinding Martin for a second. "So…you're my girlfriend now?'

"I…" Anita mulled the question over, took her time with it in Martin's opinion, as the knife caught the sun's attention yet again. "I am what should have been yours long ago. I am your grace, you see. You're being given mercy, at my hands. Well…not mine." She chuckled. "God's."

"Who says I even believe in all that?" Martin almost huffed but had to remind himself that she was holding a knife. Though he still sounded a little indignant when he spoke. "If he did exist, why is this happening to me?" _Or anything, _he thought to himself. _Why did anything happen to me? My whole life, unlucky, and to top it all off-_

"Darling, I'm here because he does exist. God doesn't pick and choose _those _things." She shuddered. "He chooses who gets the better life, in the end. You deserved a better life from the beginning. So, he's righting the wrong."

Silence. Maritn's head suddenly hurt.

"Does that make sense?"

He speaks quickly. "No."

Laughter. "Oh, Martin." Her rolled R's gave Martin the goose pimples, her demeanor suddenly soft and relaxed as she shifted her hips over his. He didn't feel so loose-limbed anymore.

He felt very, very tight. Wound up.

"Don't worry, Darling. It will come to you when it's supposed to." She trailed her finger down Martin's chest. She threw the knife toward the kitchen wall, and it stuck onto it loudly at the impact. Martin shivered, but not before she turned his face back to her.

And then her mouth was on his again.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you so much for anyone sticking with me throughout this story development. I have been working with it on and off but wanted to be a few chapters ahead before i posted anything to make it a bit easier. I'm sorry for the wait. I do want to continue and finish this story, as it it my first in-depth one.<strong>


	13. Just a Flu, Then?

When Martin woke up, the first thing he felt was the static from the telly. It did that sometimes, all through Martin's life. The static from the television had a way of making you feel like an entire flat was occupied: You would hear the TV first, but it would feel like something else. Martin always felt safer when he heard it from the hall in the early mornings- when Mum or Dad were out at work on the summer days and Simon was already working at his part time job, and Caitlin had spent the night somewhere. It was these mornings that made Martin worry when he was young, because he knew he was alone. But more often than not Simon would have left his movie playing from the night before in the setting room when he left- and so when Martin forced himself to pad down the steps so he could use the loo, he felt a little safer when he heard the telly's grinding noise.

It was still a slight disappointment when no one was in the room, of course. But Martin learned to count his blessings early.

When he turned over today though, the second thing he noticed was a sudden strike of pain, seeming to be settling in somewhere in the middle of his brain. It was nearly blinding, and Martin tried to blink the dark spots from the edges of his vision away.

This didn't work out so well though, and just as the view of his small hotel room and the staticy telly materialized, his eyes slid shut again. The pain worsened, and Martin willed himself to get up and get some water.

For some reason though, he couldn't move. That was the third thing he noticed.

_Come on, _Martin growled to himself in his head, _you can't just-_

"Martin?" Douglas' voice was somewhere to Martin's left, by the window. Martin inhaled slowly and tried to move, but his body didn't comply. "Martin, if you're awake, say something. Make a sound, at least." Douglas' voice came closer.

_I'm awake, don't get your knickers in a twist. _Martin sighed in his mind and counted to ten before trying to move again. Nothing. He tried to open his mouth and say something.

He heard Carolyn murmur something at the foot of the bed. Douglas shifting to his left. Martin took deep breaths in and out, counting to ten and starting over repeatedly.

And suddenly, the pain was gone. The weights on his muscles were lifted and Martin's eyes fluttered open again. He moved slightly on the bed, turning his head.

Douglas' face was lined with concern. Martin had been seeing a lot of that lately, especially on Friday when they were on that train-

Martin blinked and spoke the first thing on his mind. "Wh…What day's it?"

"Monday evening. Your fever broke yesterday, so you've been sleeping on and off since then." Douglas spoke slowly, watching him. Carolyn tapped Martin's foot once with her hand.

"Feeling better, are we? Took long enough. You were thrashing about like a child, right in the middle of it." She sounded only slightly annoyed, and Martin tried to ignore it.

_Monday evening?_ That's…that's three full days. He couldn't remember anything from the last three days except when he woke up the one time. And Anita, of course. She' was very hard to forget.

Martin sat up slowly, feeling a rush to his head. "I…I've really been out all this time?" He rubbed his eyes with the palm of one hand, then looked around. Arthur was sleeping on the sofa, one hand dangling off the edge. "I barely remember, I-"

"Oh, we know. You weren't making any sense to us either." Carolyn brought some water over to him which Martin sipped slowly. "We wanted to do more, but since we weren't exactly sure what the hell is-"

Douglas cut her off before Martin could even comprehend anything she said. "Not now, Carolyn. He's just woken up, for goodness sake. Let the boy have a drink." He drummed his fingers on the night stand, watching Martin curiously. Martin shifted uncomfortably under the gaze, until he finally sighed.

"What, Douglas?"

Douglas shrugged. "I'm just looking at you Martin, no need to make a fuss." His demeanor changed and he leaned forward, closer to Martin. "How are you feeling?"

_Like I've been hit by a bus, _Martin thought, but took another drink before answering. "I feel fine. Just a bit tired." He turned so his feet could touch the ground, slowly standing up. His legs felt like jelly as he kept the thin sheet from the bed- some parts still damp from sweat- over his lower body. "Must've had a flu or something, I can't remember the last time I-"

He was cut short when he tripped over the sheet- well that's what he thought happened anyway- and suddenly he was headed for the ground. But Douglas grabbed hold of Martin's arms quickly, pulling him upright. The fast movement made Martin's head spin and he swayed, leaning back against Douglas.

Douglas sighed. "Just a flu, then?"

Martin blinked slowly as his vision refocused, finally pulling away. "Yes, Douglas. Just a flu. Add that to the…inner-ear thing, anyone would be out of sorts, wouldn't they? I'm just lucky it didn't interfere with our flying time, or any jobs at home." He gathered the sheet up off the floor to cover himself and headed toward the bathroom, locking the door behind him once he was in. The shower started and Carolyn sighed heavily.

"Douglas, he is out of his right mind if he thinks we're going to believe that rubbish. A flu! And his inner-ear? He really thinks we don't have a right to know anything more than that? " She picked up a few things from the floor, dropping them into a pile by the bed.

Douglas was quiet, back to drumming his fingers. He looked thoughtful, if not a bit far away. Carolyn clapped her hands once together, making him jump. "Hello! Ignoring me, are you?"

"Ah…no." Douglas rubbed his forehead. "I'm just wondering what we should do next, is all."

"I hardly think we have any options. He's not saying anything and as we've already proven to ourselves, we can't do much on our own. Maybe we should just let it be for the moment." Carolyn went to the sofa and gently nudged Arthur to wake him, informing him of Martin's condition.

Douglas stretched in the chair and watched the bathroom door.

When Martin came out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, the room was silent. _They must have turned the television off before they left_, he thought. Maybe they decided to go to a park now that he was awake and no longer bothering them.

"_I'm just lucky it didn't interfere with our flying time, or any jobs at home."_

Martin sighed, suddenly feeling guilty. All three of them were in the small hotel room (which Douglas _had _pad for), waiting for Martin to wake up. A few glances around the room told him that they had more or less taken care of him- there were takeout containers on the small coffee table, and used mugs. There was a damp rag on the nightstand, and if Martin thought hard enough, he could _sort of _remember someone wiping the sweat from his forehead, and telling him to go back to sleep.

Martin groaned and ran a hand through his wet hair. His illness might not have interfered with their flight home, or any moving jobs- but it _did _interfere with everyone else's vacation. And so far, most of the time Martin's just either been complaining, hallucinating, or in a bloody hospital of all places. It's no wonder everyone left. They deserved to enjoy their time here too, didn't they?

He changed into one of the few casual outfits he brought in his suitcase and started cleaned up a bit. His movements were slow and heavy, until he nearly jumped when the door to the room opened- and Arthur all but tackled him right then and there, excitement leaking out as if Artur could barely contain himself. "Skip, I'm so glad you're better!"

Martin blinked and grunted. "Ah-Hello, Arthur. Wh…What are you doing here? Not with your mum?"

"Oh, I accidentally dropped my tray at the breakfast so Mum told me to come back here and check on you! They're getting you some breakfast too." Arthur grinned and hugged Martin tightly once more before letting go. "How're you feeling, Skip? You look a little better, I think."

Martin nods. "I'm fine, Arthur. Erm, thank you." So they hadn't left after all. Not that Martin could even think about eating anything right now, but it was nice all the same of Carolyn and Douglas to get food for him.

Arthur shifted. "Er, Skip, I was helping with the watching of you when you were sick and you were doing a lot of groaning and carrying on…"

"Oh?" Martin's cheeks tinged pink. "W-Was I? I was having the strangest dreams, actually, I barely remember them though-" Although that part wasn't exactly true, because he remembers every little detail about Anita's second "visit".

"Oh I hate that! Especially when it's a good dream and you wake up right as something brilliant's about to happen, and the longer you're awake the less you remember?" Arthur nods in understand. "That's the worst, Skip, because your brain's probably trying to make you happy while you're asleep but your body probably is…I dunno, stressed or something. Or it knows you've slept past the alarm!"

Martin chuckled and binned the food containers from the table. "I suppose that's probably right, isn't it? People's bodies are weird that way. Trying to do the best they can for you." _Most of the time, anyway._ "Well, erm, listen Arthur…I wanted to…well, thank you for helping. When I was sick. I'm sure there were plenty of things you'd rather do than watch over me."

"Well I could think of a few things, but it would be rude to list them right off the bat." Douglas' voice cut in as he and Carolyn came into the room with a plate of eggs, sausage, toast and an apple. They set it on the table with a glass of orange juice. "Here we are. Your breakfast."

Martin blinked, ignoring the sarcastic remark as he took in the large amount of food on the plate. His stomach grumbled at the sight, and he suddenly realized how hungry he was. When had he last eaten? "You didn't have to bring all that for me. How did you even manage to sneak it away? Aren't those free breakfasts for people who are actually in the room?"

Carolyn waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, they can't be bothered to watch us every minute. And they saw Arthur leaving anyway, probably thought it was for him. Sit and eat, now." She half-shoved Martin onto the sofa, handing him a fork. "I want all of it gone. You look more peckish than you did two days ago, and that's saying something."

Martin nibbled at the toast first, but as his hunger took over, he started enjoying the rest of the items on the plate. By the time Douglas had taken a quick shower and come out in new clothes, Martin had finished everything but the apple (which he was still working on). He tried not to think of Anita as he bit into it, but his cheeks felt a bit warm anyway.

"That's better." Carolyn smiled a bit as she threw the plate away. Martin wasn't used to this side of Carolyn. He couldn't tell if it was endearing or just weird.

With a small breath Martin decided to speak on his earlier words. "I...I know I said me falling ill now was more convenient, b-but I hope you didn't…" He sighed and spoke quickly. "I just wanted to thank you. I didn't mean to wreck our vacation and it was more than kind of you to help out-"

"Oh shut up, Martin." Douglas rolled his eyes as he checked his hair in the mirror. "It's not as if we could get anywhere without you anyway, seeing as you're the supreme commander to end all other supreme commanders."

Arthur laughed just then, but Martin wasn't sure if it was at Douglas or the TV. Carolyn was next to dismiss the apology. "We're just glad you're better now. Hopefully you're right about that flu. It really was rather nasty as we could see." Martin blushed then and bit into the apple again, wiping some juice away before it dribbled down his chin.

Arthur turned the TV off then, looking hopeful. "Does this mean we can go to a park today? We don't have that much longer in Florida and, well no offense Skip because I'm really glad you're better now," he looked a bit guilty as he said this, "But we haven't been able to do much and who knows when-"

"Well I think a park is a good idea. "Martin interrupted him. "I mean I can't be the reason we didn't see Animal Kingdom or anything." He stole a look at Douglas and Carolyn, whose worried looks that told Martin he needed to be a better actor than that. "I'm feeling loads better and now that I've eaten I've got more energy too."

Carolyn sighed. "Martin, that is very noble of you, but I don't think we should be rushing into any…strenuous activities just yet." Douglas nodded as she spoke, which provoked a disappointed sigh out of Arthur.

Martin shifted on his feet. "I-I understand, but really Carolyn. I think all of the sleep I had did me a world of good. And I know you don't want all the money you and Douglas spent on our mini vacation to go to waste…"

Douglas sighed and Carolyn rolled her eyes. "I can see I'm not going to get anywhere with you two. Fine, fine. But _only _because it's not supposed to be too warm today. Martin, you better tell us the _second_ you feel off. At all. I mean it, and you won't be alone for one second either. I'll make Douglas accompany you to the loo if I think something's up-"

"Now while I am all for keeping Martin in good health Carolyn," Douglas interrupted her, "I don't really think that's necess-"

"Hush Douglas, no witty remarks out of you. If anything else I need Martin to be healthy by this weekend so we can fly home in four pieces-One piece for each body on that plane, mind you. So yes, Douglas, you will escort Martin to the restroom if it means I have a capable captain to fly by Sunday."

"Aww, Sunday?" Arthur whined. "That's just two more days isn't it?"

"Thrilling that you figured it out all by yourself, Arthur." Douglas rolled his eyes. "Well I suppose if I've shared a _bed_ with the captain than surely I can watch guard while he relieves himself. Right, Martin?" He looked over at Martin who was gnawing a hangnail, deep in thought.

"Lovely, we've already lost him." Carolyn grabbed Arthur's backpack and thrusted it at him. "Martin, pay attention!"

"What? Oh. Right, yes, fine." Martin jumped into action, grabbing his phone and slipping his feet into sandals.

"And off we go," Douglas said as he shut the door behind them.


	14. An Unexpected Guest

He hadn't seen Anita in a full week now. Martin was the tiniest hopeful for this, because coupled with less headaches and a general feeling of "this isn't so bad", he felt this maybe meant he was doing all right (for once) since they left for Florida. He didn't have any episodes on the flight home and was even able to enjoy two full days of the amusement parks and lovely meals Orlando had to offer. Even Douglas commented on Martin's "only slight paleness" and he won the word game, too. Though Martin was slightly suspicious that was on purpose, he found he didn't mind as much.

And certainly not now, when they had some time off…

He loved flying, he really did. Martin was only good at a few-well, no. He really was only good at flying, wasn't he? And that's alright because he loved doing it more than anything else. He was okay at moving boxes but it was sticky and heavy and in the end, unsatisfying. The money made it bearable but the _feeling_ made it less so. So there was the flights he looked forward to, even with the crabby passengers and the loss of the cheese tray every other day or even the occasional fight in customs, where Martin was sure he had told Douglas which terminal they were in but of course in the end he was wrong, always wrong.

But then he sat in the chair, and GERTI's engine roared to life. And that meant Martin was home. If only for a few hours.

This being the only thing in life Martin could ever be so passionate about it would seem that he'd be disappointed in the break of schedule. Especially after he'd been ill for so long, and it'd been a week and a day between the last two flights he made. It did feel…off, not flying so much in the span of two weeks. It felt unreal, actually.

Not the most unreal Martin's felt recently, though.

But as he and Douglas went through the landing checklist, and Martin made sure to fill out his flight log afterwards so he wouldn't forget, he found himself relieved when Carolyn announced that they were, in fact, all on standby until further notice. Or at least until when they were due back to pick their client up from Malibu once more in two and a half weeks.

If anything, Martin thought, this would be good for business. He tried not to focus on the fact that (since he knew he'd be gone for so long) he didn't do any shopping before he left, but this admission wasn't so bad. He had to stop on the way home for the essentials (bread and cheese for sandwiches-there was probably some margarine in the fridge from the students so he could do with that, and there'd be milk for tea since he only uses a dash, but tea as well, and he should probably get at least one chicken breast. He could make that last) but that thought wasn't as disheartening as he assumed, since he was really able to restrain himself from buying any souvenirs from the shops at Disney.

Douglas had against Martin's protests bought him a Mickey Mouse pen ("So we can all enjoy the fun of Disney while doing boring paperwork," was his excuse, but Martin was sure he'd caught Douglas watching him admire the clearance section item, ultimately deciding to pocket his cash) but since Martin never really had a souvenir from anywhere else, he finally just decided to thank Douglas for the three dollar item. And since Martin only let himself take out a small amount of cash for conversion anyway, and since he was travelling when he had to go to hospital and wasn't charged for his prescriptions (although to be honest, why couldn't America be like that for its own citizens as well? Martin didn't want to have to think about _paying_ for his healthcare), he was able to save a bit more in his account than he had planned on. So far he had paid for a few meals on the trip (less than ten, thanks to the breakfast buffets at the hotel, and he could stretch his cash far on one meal,), the drinks from the bar, and a travel supply of Tylenol to go with his coffee from the airport when they left.

So now he probably had plenty for shopping, maybe even enough to buy cans of broth (cheaper than soup) and then still have leftover to put into his savings. And with the time off, he could do some moving jobs. It wasn't betrayal of GERTI, just a temporary replacement so he might be able to get his account back to where it was before they left for Florida. He did have one job on standby that he decided to call in on, just to make sure they hadn't needed him while he was gone and called someone else.

"Oh, what good timing you have," Ms. Roberts sniffled into the phone, "My mother passed on two days ago, so I'll be needing her things moved. It's a two story flat…" She trailed off into a description of the things she wanted to keep and the few things "You can do whatever you want with them, sell them or leave 'em on the curb…I hated that dresser anyway."

Martin was sure to apologize for Mrs. Roberts' passing, but he had no shame to admit (to himself only, of course) that thanks to that, he might get out ahead this week.

And while the dresser was too large for his own room, he knew Adam from this rotation of students was finishing his semester up and moving in with his girlfriend soon, so he was able to pawn it along with a small desk with a wobbly leg off. Both for 50 pounds, but Martin was ecstatic. He kept a fiver for his coffee run before whenever his next flight would be, stuffed twenty into the emergency cash sock (now he had 27, but who's complaining?) then went into his savings for his part of the rent next month.

So now he was right where he started, but now with a small sense of security to keep him afloat. And with one more job this weekend to boot, thanks to Ms. Roberts' friend Essie with a closing bookshop. By Sunday he had emerged with 80 pounds for two afternoons of labor, a bruised side and a sprained wrist and _ten _free books for his trouble (and his kindness, Essie had insisted). All in all Martin felt pretty good by the end of the weekend, so with his new cash he decided to buy just one pack of cigarettes from the petrol station. He felt he deserved it anyway, and since he barely did smoke he'd have plenty left over to last. It was only an occasional thing, him smoking. On late nights when he walked home from the corner café with a book in his hand, or on rainy nights when he can't bear the thought of being holed up in the attic for the evening.

It was two days later when Martin was walking home, cigarette hanging from between his lips, when it happened.

At first he didn't even _see_ her. A slight headache was just starting to nag at the middle of Martin's head, so he figured he would head home and drink some coffee. It was probably the lack of caffeine, he thought. Anita was getting out of the cab in front of the flat by the time he got there, and Martin probably wouldn't have even turned his head if she hadn't have called his name. He was just about to jump onto the first step of the stoop when her accent stopped him in his tracks and turn around.

"Martin, Darling!" Anita was wearing a short black dress with a small cardigan, red heels, and she had a big red bag hanging off her arm. Her sunhat was probably too big for her head but Martin supposed this was what fashion was supposed to look like. The last girl he went to dinner with wore a sundress and sandals, with plaits in her hair, and suddenly Martin forgot what her name was. He also forgot that at the time the sun wasn't even out, so he never even thought about why Anita would be wearing a sunhat of all things. But she did come from Florida, didn't she? How did Martin even get onto this train of thought? He should be saying something to Anita, shouldn't he (her legs looked newly tanned since he last saw her, oh, her top half too- her cleavage was bronzed and almost sparkling, peeking out from the cardigan-)

But it wasn't even sunny. And Martin wasn't saying anything to her; he was only standing on the steps in front of his flat as he looked her over, cigarette still dangling from his mouth. She wasn't really standing there, was she? No, she wasn't. No one else was on the street either, but…

"H-Hi," Martin finally managed to say, and the cigarette fell out of his mouth. Damn.

Anita laughed.

"Darling, no need to be so surprised. Did you think I wouldn't find you at home?"

A dull pain throbbed in Martin's forehead. "I...I." He licked his lips." Hi."

Anita slammed the taxi door shut and stepped up to him. She tilted her head back a bit so he could see her eyes underneath the brim of the hat, and since Martin was a step higher than her he was just a little bit taller. He could see hi reflection in the shades of her sunglasses. Anita grinned. "Aren't you going to kiss me hello?"

Martin glanced around and leaned over to peck her cheek, blushing when he pulled back. "Wh…what are you doing here?"

"Well I couldn't let you enjoy yourself for too long without me, darling," Anita pulled a compact mirror from the bust of her dress and looked into it. "Come now, invite me inside so I can see your room."

"O-Oh, I'm not sure that's…" Martin swayed a bit, feeling warm all of a sudden. She took his hand and led him to the front door.

"We'll sit down and have a drink first, then you'll feel better about it."

Martin didn't have much in the flat to drink as far as he knew, and with the way Anita was he was sure he didn't have anything she would want. But who could argue with her? Martin hadn't been able to do far, now with her demanding presence. He always felt like he had to succumb to her- not that it was a bad thing, per se. It just meant he was used to…following what she said. So Martin pulled his key out and unlocked the door, pushing it open. She laced her fingers with his and followed him inside, while Martin tried to figure out what he was going to do.


End file.
